SECONDS
by Patcat
Summary: Some wild speculation on my part regarding Bobby and Alex's early loves. A sequel of sorts to THE FIRST TIME
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The bar was crowded and noisy; it smelled of beer, sweat, smoke, desperation, and loneliness. Euro disco pulsed over the sound system, and lights, flashing slightly off the beat, swept across the gyrating bodies. Marlene Dross sipped her overpriced drink and surveyed her surroundings.

"I shouldn't have come," she thought. "I hate these places under the best of times…and this certainly isn't the best of times…" Marlene perched carefully on a stool near the end of the bar; it allowed her to see most of the room and protected her from any approaches from the back. She could see potential suitors who were willing to fight the crowd; there hadn't, fortunately, been many of those this evening. Her perch also benefited from its out of the way location, at least as far as Marlene was concerned. Her friend Maria—who insisted that Marlene accompany her on the grounds that she was brooding too much over her recent breakup—had quickly attracted the attention of several men. The few who managed to find and approach Marlene had been quickly discouraged by the ice queen persona she had adopted for the evening. She wasn't sure where her confidence came from—perhaps it was her new job as a translator for the West German Army's liaisons with its American counterparts; perhaps her survival of the recent collapse of her first serious romantic relationship; perhaps the short but sleek navy blue skirt and form fitting white turtleneck and the shiny, new leather boots (purchased with part of her first paycheck from her new job); or perhaps that she at least could now pretend to be the tough, smart, honest woman her mother hoped she might become after she named her daughter after Marlene Dietrich.

A burst of noise and activity from a group of young men at the opposite end of the bar attracted Marlene. There were about ten of them, all with the well nourished, bright white teeth, and confident looks of Americans. Soldiers, Marlene guessed, escaping for a few hours from life on the nearby base. Scattered throughout the bar were several groups of these young Americans, some of them acting with the frenzy of animals just released from cages. They weren't bad, Marlene reflected. She came in contact with them every day—polite, respectful, homesick boys, many of whom had never been more than a few hundred miles from their homes. But in places like this, traveling in packs, they could be obnoxious, even dangerous. In the course of the evening Marlene swatted away a few of these American mosquitoes, acts that caused her some regret. Unlike several of her fellow recent university graduates, Marlene didn't believe that all of the world's ills could be laid at America's feet—many, certainly, but not all.

Marlene knew her view of Americans was filtered through her mother's admiration of all things and people arriving from the United States. Her mother had been a little girl at the conclusion of World War II, and had filled Marlene's head with stories of the American GIs and their kindness, of their gifts of Hershey bars and Wrigley gum and warm blankets. Her mother dreamed of visiting America, but the death of her husband and the need to care for her daughter kept that desire from being more than a dream. Now that Marlene had a good job, she hoped to help her mother achieve that and several other dreams.

Marlene smiled as she examined the small flocks of young Americans. Her mother was pleased that her daughter had found such a good job, but she worried about Marlene's exposure to, as she put it, "so many lonely boys." Her mother wanted to protect her daughter from heartache, not knowing that Marlene had already dealt with a fair amount of it. Marlene's pretty blonde looks, her intelligence, and her sweet nature attracted men, but, she thought, not always the best men.

"Well," Marlene thought. "I've learned not to fall in love with my teacher, my roommate's brother, my boss…sometimes you have to experience it…and all the pain."

Marlene was suddenly aware that a figure from one of the flocks was wading carefully through the crowd towards her.

"Wonderful." Marlene mentally gritted her teeth. "Another one…well, I can always pretend that I don't understand English."

The figure stood in front of her, and, in spite of her annoyance, Marlene was intrigued. The young man—barely more than a boy, she thought—was considerably more sober and polite than the men who approached her earlier. He was tall even for an American and just beginning to lose the gawky sense of not being sure of what to do with his long arms and legs. His dark brown curls were less disciplined than the hair of his companions, and his face appeared terribly young. But it was the chocolate eyes resting in the face that intrigued Marlene; the age of those eyes didn't seem to fit with the youth of the face.

"Please," the figure said in hesitant but only slightly accented German. "I'm terribly sorry to bother you…and if you want me to go away I will…but I…I wonder if I could ask a huge favor of you?"

Marlene studied the young man carefully. Either he was a superb actor or he was very shy and courteous. She sipped her drink as she considered her reply.

"Is," he asked, "my German that bad?"

A smile came to Marlene's lips. "No," she answered genially in English. "It's quite good. Although I bet my English may be a little better."

The young man looked surprised and relieved. He smiled. Marlene thought he had a wonderful smile.

"Thank you," he replied in English. "The truth is my ability to speak German is pretty limited."

"You're doing rather well…and at least you know it," Marlene said.

"Ah, but you haven't heard me dealing with any difficult verbs." He cocked his head. "Your English is excellent."

"Thank you," Marlene said and felt her cheeks redden slightly. He had found one of her vanities; Marlene was very proud of her linguistic skills. "It's very useful."

"I think I've seen you at the base," the young man said thoughtfully.

"Yes…" Marlene hesitated. Her work was occasionally sensitive, and she couldn't tell even an American soldier much about it.

"But," he said as if reading her mind. "You can't tell me much about it. Well, I don't think I can tell you much about what I do there either."

Marlene shared his smile. "So, what is this favor you need?"

He was ill at ease again. "Truth is…you're sorta doing it right now…"

Marlene's smile grew wider. "Just by talking to you?"

"This is embarrassing," he said, shifting on his feet. "The guys were giving me a hard time because this…" He waved a large hand at the bar. "It's not where…I don't usually come…and when I do…I don't…" Marlene thought he appeared younger and shyer by the minute. "I don't talk to the girls…I…uh…I…"

A light shone in Marlene's mind. She took pity on the young man. "So…they challenged you…or you made a bet…to talk to me…"

The young man stared at his shoes and rubbed the back of his neck. "It…it didn't seem so…I'm sorry."

Marlene saw a group of young men watching her and the young man with great interest. One or two members of the group had made some awkward approaches to her earlier in the evening. It might have been a desire to get some tiny revenge on those annoyances; the just enough to make her bold alcohol in her system; or the fact she liked this shy, charming boy/man, but Marlene was disposed to help him. She leaned forward.

"I think," she said sweetly. "That if we're going to have a conversation and maybe even a drink, we should know who we are." She extended a hand. "I'm Marlene."

His head shot up in surprise; he looked at her with enormous gratitude.

"Bobby," he said. "Thank you." Her small hand disappeared inside his large paw; his grip was surprisingly soft and gentle. He titled his head. "Marlene? Dietrich?"

Around Bobby—he was too tall to see over even though she was on a stool—Marlene saw his companions reacting with surprise, dismay, and, in at least two cases, satisfaction.

"Yes," Marlene said. "My mother is a great fan."

It became one of the more pleasant evening Marlene had enjoyed in some time. Bobby Goren—his last name, he told her with regret, wasn't German but Eastern European in origin—was quietly charming, quietly and enormously intelligent, and not so quietly curious. In spite of her usually reserved nature and determination to keep a distance, Marlene told Bobby a great deal about herself before she discovered he was from New York City. She nearly spilled both of their drinks when she jumped towards him.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to frighten you…It's just…I've wanted to visit New York City all my life…It's my mother's dream…She loves all the movies about and set in the city…I have all of ON THE TOWN memorized…and all the movies with James Cagney…and I love Woody Allen…"

Bobby recovered from his shock and smiled. "You know, it's really not like any of the movies…There aren't gun battles in every street and Fred Astaire isn't dancing every night with Ginger Rogers in Central Park…"

"Or with Cyd Charisse," Marlene laughed.

"Sounds like your mom and mine might like the same movies," Bobby said, and a shadow crossed his face.

Marlene was too eager to learn about New York to register that shadow. In response to her questions, Bobby described some of his favorite places in the city. He told her about viewing the Statue of Liberty from the Staten Island Ferry; the grace and strength of the Brooklyn Bridge; the Art Deco designs glowing inside the Empire State Building; and the place he loved the most, the New York Public Library on Fifth Avenue. In his enthusiasm Bobby revealed that he occasionally snuck into these places and the subway.

"You were a bad boy?" Marlene asked teasingly.

He reddened slightly. "Not bad…just poor. Ok," he said in response to her look, "a little bad."

"Riding the subway at night…by yourself? It wasn't dangerous?" Marlene asked.

Bobby smiled. "The subway trains aren't that dangerous…you just make sure you sit near the conductor…I'll grant that the stations and platforms can be a little scary."

Marlene glanced around the bar. It was late and the crowd thinning. "Your friends have left…will you be able to collect on your bet?"

"Yea…they're good guys…they keep their word…" He was shy again. "Besides…the bet…that's just an extra…I've really enjoyed talking to you…Thank you."

Marlene looked into her drink. The fact that her simple friendly gestures meant so much to Bobby touched her.

"I've enjoyed talking to you as well…thank you…you made this a very pleasant evening." Marlene scanned the dwindling crowd and saw no sign of Maria.

"Were you abandoned too?" Bobby asked.

"I'm afraid so," Marlene said. "Although I'm not surprised…I think my friend was using me as an excuse to come here…" She sighed. "I'm terribly sorry, Bobby…but I have to go…I have a bus to catch…" She smiled at him. "I've had a very good time, Bobby."

He looked at her shyly from beneath his long, dark lashes. "May I walk you to the stop…I have to catch a bus back to the base. You can call my commanding officer if you want to check up on me."

Marlene smiled. "I don't think I need to do that…especially since I was about to give you my phone number…that is…if you want it…"

Bobby stared at her in amazement. "You…uh…you…you don't have to…I mean…that's really kind of you…but…uh…" One of his large hands rubbed the back of his neck with increasing intensity.

"Do you want it?" Marlene said gently.

Bobby blinked. "Yes…please…very much…"

As they walked to the bus station he softly took her hand. It was a cold night, and when she shivered, he asked gently and hesitantly if he could put his arm around her. Marlene didn't know if she was charmed or disappointed by his refusal to attempt anything more. She leaned against him; he was warm and surprisingly strong, and the appearance of her bus caused a mild wave of disappointment in Marlene.

"You won't have to wait long?" she asked as she reluctantly pulled away from him.

"My bus is due in about five minutes."

Marlene's bus glided to the stop, and its door opened to reveal a sympathetic looking driver who, Marlene thought, had probably seen many scenes like this one.

"You will call me?" she asked Bobby.

"Yes…oh yes…maybe next Saturday…we could…I'm not on duty…" Marlene saw that Bobby hovered between wanting her to know how much he wanted to see her and trying not to frighten her.

"It's all right," she thought. "You can kiss me…I want you to…"

"I'm sorry," the driver said. "You need to get on the bus."

Marlene took a deep breath, stood on her toes, and gently pulled Bobby's head down. She kissed him tenderly on the forehead. "Call me. I'll see you next Saturday," she said decisively.

Bobby stared at her in amazement and gratitude. "Yes…yes…I will!"

Marlene paused in the bus' doorway. "You better call me," she laughed. "Or you'll cause an international incident."

"Thank you!" Bobby called as the doors shut.

Marlene took her seat and turned to look out the back window as the bus pulled away. She laughed; she saw Bobby Goren, his figure outlined by the street lights, joyously dancing.

End Chapter 1


	2. Chapter 2

As always, many thanks for the reviews. And on with more of my wild speculations regarding Bobby and Alex's early loves. This chapter--Alex

Chapter 2

Tom Wexstein surveyed the class in front of him with a weary and experienced eye. In the three years he'd been teaching this auto repair class at the community center he'd encountered several examples of the four young men standing in front of him. All appeared to think they knew more than their teacher and attempted to view the large engine hanging in front of them with a blasé attitude. Tom considered it was highly unlikely that any of the four had ever seen anything like it, and he hoped that the engine would at least stay in one piece for the first class. He glanced at the clock; one other student had registered for the class, and the session was due to start in less than a minute.

The door at the far end of the garage opened and shut, and a small figure dressed in worn but clean jeans, heavy work boots, and an ancient, oversized flannel shirt over a T-shirt approached. For a moment Tom thought the figure might be a young boy, but he realized that it was a young woman. She stood much taller than her height, and he sensed she was older than she looked. "But she'd almost have to be," Tom thought. "If she's as young as she looks she couldn't even drive a car." Her blonde hair was tied back from her face with a red bandana, and she carried a formidable looking red toolbox.

"Sorry I'm late," she said.

One of the other students called out, "Get lost, sister?"

Before the others could snicker or Tom comment, the young woman turned.

"I'm not your sister—I already have three brothers," she said quietly, a flame briefly blazing in her eyes. "I was fine until a man gave me the wrong directions." She turned to Tom. "I'm Alex Eames."

Tom liked Alex Eames, and he liked her more as the first class progressed. In spite of the warnings sent with the class registrations, she was the only student dressed to get dirty and possessing the right tools. It quickly became clear she knew more about the inner workings of a car that the other four students put together, and Tom frequently struggled not to laugh as Alex handed the right tool to one of her classmates or pointed one in the right direction. His feelings moved to outright affection when at the end of the class the four males, more than a little embarrassed by their showings, fled while Alex stayed to help clean and pick up.

"You know," Tom said. "I'm not sure you need this class…you seem to have a good grasp of the workings of an internal combustion engine already."

Alex tossed several greasy cloths into a barrel and smiled. "Yea…we went over the basic stuff tonight…my ignorance will start showing soon…I want to know how to take an engine apart and put it back together, if only to hold my own with my brothers…and one of my brothers is helping to fund his way through college by fixing cars…if I get good enough—and we get to a point where we can work together without killing each other—I might be able to help him. Besides," she said as she carefully placed several wrenches in a toolbox, "I really like doing this."

Throughout the next weeks, Alex proved to be a knowledgeable and skilled mechanic, and an intelligent and eager student willing to admit and make mistakes. By the end of the course, the four would be car jockeys were listening to and treating Alex with respect. More significantly, Tom thought, they treated Alex exactly as they treated each other—she was one of the guys. It was another reason for Tom to like Alex Eames, and he didn't need another reason to like her.

It was the last night of the class, and the teacher and five students happily assessed their work. A fully restored Stingray glowed in the middle of the garage. There was no question of who would get the honor of being first behind the wheel. Alex slid into the car and revved the engine.

"Need a pillow there, Eames?" one of the guys asked.

"If she does," another said, "I'm volunteering."

Alex poked her head out the window. "IF I needed a pillow," she said with a grin. "You would not be my choice."

"It's a beauty, guys," Tom told the class after each had taken a turn behind the wheel. "Frankly, I didn't expect to finish this by the end of the class."

"What's going to happen to it?" a student asked.

"I promised the Community Center we'd auction it off to help fund more programs." Tom smiled. "Although, I really didn't think we'd have anything to auction."

"Didn't count on our skills, uh, teach?" another student laughed.

"Nah," said the first. "He didn't count on Eames."

Alex reddened slightly. "Well," she said with a smile. "You guys did the heavy lifting."

Alex and another student were technically too young, but the group managed to sneak into a local bar for a celebration. Tom squeezed next to Alex in the booth; she smelled of a mix of oil and lavender, and he found his mind drifting into dangerous territory.

"No," he firmly told himself as he watched her sip a margarita. "I'm at least ten years older than her…technically, she's a student…I'm not exactly free…"

The party broke up long before any of its participants were near an intoxicated state. Tom walked Alex back to the garage, although he sensed she welcomed his company more than she needed his protection.

"I've been thinking about offering a class on auto repair for women," Tom said as they neared the garage, although the idea had just popped into his head. "For those who don't have brothers to teach them and compete with."

Alex smiled. "That would be a good idea. Guys try to intimidate women when it comes to cars."

Tom nodded. "We get a lot of women in our shop saying that."

"It's one of the things I like about you…I know you were expecting a guy that first day…and you barely blinked when I turned out to be a girl…didn't even complain about cooties…"

"I had good examples…I inherited the shop from my dad and mom…my mom is still as good a mechanic as my dad…better with some cars…" Tom unlocked the garage door. "Would you…be interested in helping with the course? You'd be a good example…but mostly because you know your stuff….I could work out some salary…"

Alex considered the offer as she gathered her tools. "It's an attractive offer," she said and smiled. Tom's insides turned to goo. "It might help with the bills…"

"I remember those days," Tom said. "Trying to pay for college…my parents helped a lot…but I spent a lot of hours working…"

Alex nodded. "Yea…I'm from a big family and we're trying to make it on a cop's salary…I've got a scholarship, but it doesn't cover everything, and I don't want to take out a bunch of loans." She hoisted her backpack on her shoulders. "It was a great class, Tom. I learned a lot. Thanks."

An unfamiliar panic gripped Tom; he saw Alex Eames walking out of his life forever. "Listen," he said, hoping that his voice didn't betray his feelings. "About that class…don't forget…and I could always use a good assistant mechanic…especially one that's willing to work weekends and evening."

Alex's hand was on the door knob; she turned. "I'm tempted to say yes…but could you give a couple days to check my schedule and stuff?"

Tom's heart took an unexpected leap. "Sure," he said struggling to keep his voice even.

They walked the few stops to the parking lot. Alex stopped a beautiful, sky blue Mustang.

"Wow," Tom murmured reverently. "'64, or '65?"

"Both, actually," Alex laughed. "It's the family's ongoing project…my dad and brothers hope to have original parts on it someday."

Tom continued to his car; he heard the beep of a horn. He turned to see Alex; she slammed on the brakes, and then peeled out.

"Don't tell my dad!" she yelled and waved.

"Oh, damn!" Tom thought as he watched her drive away. "She's just a kid…and I've got it bad…"

END Chapter Two


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Throughout Sunday, Sergeant Robert Goren was his usual model of a perfect soldier. He performed his duties with high levels of efficiency—although, listening and monitoring East German and Russian Army communications on a dreary day were not the most difficult of his responsibilities. Any truly important information appeared on far more secure channels, but there were occasional slips in security or bits of gossip and news, and Robert Goren's extraordinary memory and uncanny ability to piece together bits of information frequently served his superiors well.

He found the Army tough at first; Bobby spent as much time performing push-ups and KP duty as he did marching during Basic Training. But he was a bright kid--his drill sergeant told him that even as he supervised Bobby's slogging through mud—and Bobby finally accepted that he'd have to deal with authority, even stupid authority. He decided to take advantage of everything the Army offered. He completed the work for his high school diploma, and, when one of the legions of tests the Army loved revealed his aptitude for languages, Bobby was placed in several different courses. When others indicated his talent for intelligence work, the Army set Bobby to work on codes and surveillance, and he discovered how exhilarating and mind numbing that work could be. He began taking college level courses on a correspondence basis and, thanks to his wide ranging reading, passed several exams for college credits. He even attended, albeit reluctantly, counseling sessions. He questioned the sessions' benefits to his mental health, but they at least provided him with some knowledge of why he was the way he was. He discovered that, out of the necessity of navigating the turbulent waters of his childhood, he'd become a careful observer of human behavior. His study of human psychology even took on a semi-formal approach in his conversations with some of the Army psychiatrists and psychologists and the reading of books recommended by them. While his barrack mates spent their free time playing cards, talking about girls, visiting bars, lying about girls, generally wasting time, and thinking about girls, Bobby spent his reading, taking courses, volunteering for extra duty, working out, and thinking about girls.

He was still, even with the stripes on his uniform, a kid in many ways, particularly when it came to women. On a professional level, he had no problems in working with women or having them as his superiors. He treated them as he did everyone else—with respect unless they proved unworthy of it. Bobby learned quickly to respect the rank if not the person. The Army's ways were often inexplicable to him, but he discovered it was a remarkably democratic institution. Your color, your background, your age, your parents, didn't matter; what mattered was how well you did your job. And Sergeant Robert Goren did his job very well.

But Bobby Goren, the shy twenty-year-old who would have been homesick if he had ever had a real home and who resided inside that sergeant's uniform, had more trouble with life. He was a quiet leader others respected because of his competency and his care for his squad. His age—he was frequently five years or younger than others of his rank—occasionally caused him some grief (some members of his command called his men "the Brat's Squad")—but rarely was a problem once he demonstrated his abilities. But he was quiet in the Mess Hall; nearly invisible when he was off-duty. His captain (whose career Bobby's actions had given a considerable boost), other sergeants, and the members of his squad all liked him, but no one seemed able to break the walls around him.

Soldiers exist in a world of long stretches of boredom punctuated by sudden, terrible moments of violence. The mystery of Bobby Goren provided some relief from the boredom, the homesickness, and the knowledge that the combined might of much of the Soviet Union's military machine was a few miles away from the base. Bobby could and would talk about a lot of things, from baseball to the dubious music choices of the East German radio stations to the mating habits of bees, but he rarely spoke of his personal life. He made occasional references to a father (almost always with anger), a mother (almost always with sadness), and to a brother (almost always with confusion). He sent and received little mail, and what mail he received frequently sent him into a dark mood. He apparently didn't talk about his personal life because he didn't have a personal life, and he never joined the conversations about women (much of it lies and exaggerations) because he had nothing to say. Some of the other soldiers teased him, but others defended him. One tough veteran sergeant commented, "He's just a kid…and it looks like he had a rough time of it."

His defenders took on the project of improving Bobby's social life, or, as a corporal said, "To get the kid laid!" Bobby discovered he was subtly—and, often not so subtly—pressed to take leaves, to join in forays to the local night life, to actually not work all the time. He had occasionally ventured beyond the base, usually on a Sunday when the rest of the barracks slept off the excesses of the previous night and usually to a museum or concert or to simply walk in the town's parks. He sometimes sat at an outdoor café and watched the people; on rainy or snowy days he rode buses all over the area. He dressed in blue jeans and his battered leather jacket, and the locals took him for a student; he was too quiet and shy and studious to be anything else.

Bobby didn't like the bars and strip joints that crowded the streets near the base. He liked women—liked and thought about them a lot, enough to send him into the bathroom or shower alone late at night—but the cheap atmosphere surrounding the bodies being bought and sold, the terrible loneliness, and the smell of bad liquor and desperation reminded him too much of his father and his first, and so far only, sexual encounter.

That particular Saturday was a bad one. The mail brought him a letter from his mother telling him how lonely she was in the half way house and another from his brother warning of the possible repercussions if Bobby didn't lend him some money. Bobby couldn't find escape in work—his captain had awarded everyone leave in appreciation for the squad's recent excellent work and had ordered Bobby to take it. There was nothing to keep him from thinking about his family—or lack of one.

He was susceptible to the suggestion that he join a group headed for the newest club in town and was managing to at least get his mind off his troubles when a few of his companions began to insist that he talk to a girl before the night ended. Bobby shrugged it off, but another sergeant defended him, and another soldier made some remark about Bobby's sexuality, and Bobby was suddenly aware that a fight was taking shape around him.

"All right," he said to squelch the confrontation. "I'll talk to someone…now just what girl are you going to make the victim?"

"Her," someone said, pointing with his beer.

To his dismay, Bobby saw he gestured toward a very beautiful, very blonde young woman seated at the far end of the bar. Along with every other man in the bar, Bobby had been struck by her looks, by her long legs that started somewhere just below her perfectly shaped breasts and went on for several miles. He knew she had effectively and efficiently shot down several would be admirers throughout the evening. She was far too elegant and classy for the bar, and barely in Bobby's universe.

"How bad can it be?" Bobby thought. "I walk up to her, say hello, get rejected, come back, and they'll leave me alone…I'll at least get to practice my German…"

His only plan as he approached her was to tell her the truth and hope she wouldn't throw her drink in his face. She stunned him by talking to him and then by her kindness. As the evening progressed, Bobby couldn't remember when he had been so happy: he forgot about work, his companions, his family. He simply enjoyed her company. The brief physical contact with Marlene as he walked her to the bus station and her kiss filled him with a joy he hadn't felt since…well, ever. During the bus ride back to the base, Bobby stared at the small slip of paper bearing Marlene's phone number. He had the number memorized before the bus reached its next stop, but the first thing he did on reaching his quarters, even before he shed his jacket, was to carefully copy it in his slim address book. Although Bobby attempted to be quiet, his roommate Josh Willis stirred in his bunk. Josh was a slender, muscular black man from a tiny lump of a town in Georgia who occasionally employed an accent incomprehensible even to others from the South. Like Bobby, he was bright and determined to use the Army as much as it used him; unlike Bobby, he possessed a large and supportive family. He was one of the less vocal but most forceful proponents of the attempt to get Bobby Goren a life. Bobby had just slipped off his shoes when Josh's sleepy voice drawled from his bunk.

"So, you home happily late or sadly early?"

Bobby smiled. "Happily late…she talked to me…actually talked to me…"

Josh chuckled. "Well, why shouldn't she? Aside from being from New York, there's not a lot wrong with you, Goren. You're polite, you shower regularly, and you speak German."

Bobby dropped his shirt and jeans into his laundry bag and crossed back to his bed. "She speaks English very well…she works on the base…"

Josh turned on his side. "Good," he murmured. "You don't have to worry about her being a security risk…"

Bobby fell on his back on his bed. "Her name is Marlene," he whispered.

"Yea…well, just don't be yelling it in your sleep," Josh grumbled. "We both got duty tomorrow…"

As far as he knew, Bobby didn't shout Marlene's name in his sleep; for once, he wasn't troubled by bad dreams. He woke early, as he almost always did, but he wasn't happy to leave his dreams. His early rising saved him from the scrutiny and comments of the barracks, and he finished his breakfast and headed to his post. He first considered calling her when he arrived in the tiny room that served as a listening post, but realized calling at eight in the morning might not be a wise decision. Bobby concentrated on his work, but involuntarily pulled out the number he'd memorized and looked at it several times in the morning. He spent his morning break pacing up and down in the cold drizzle outside the grey building.

"It's too soon," he thought as he furiously puffed on a cigarette. (One of the few things he had in common with his fellow soldiers was smoking to stave off boredom.) "Don't want to look too desperate…maybe she just gave me the number to get rid of me…no…she didn't want to leave you last night…idiot…she kissed you…what if…" He threw the cigarette's remains on the ground. "No…no what ifs…lunch…not too early…I'll try her at lunch…"

The clock moved with painfully slow speed through the rest of the morning. When Bobby finally faced a phone, he discovered he could barely force his hand to pick up the receiver. Heart pounding, he dialed the number and let the phone ring for at least ten minutes before surrendering.

"Too early," he thought. "It's still Sunday morning…she may be with her family…church…what if she's Catholic? Really Catholic…I won't have a chance…get your mind out of the gutter, Goren…what if it's the wrong number…what if I dialed wrong?"

He dialed the number again, and again let it ring for several minutes before hanging up. "I'll try again later," he thought.

Bobby suffered through the afternoon, almost wishing for some sign of Soviet troop activity. It was a disconcerting experience for him to want his shift to end. He avoided the Mess Hall and the barracks and headed to an office he knew would be empty. He stared for a long time at the phone and finally took a deep breath and dialed the number. The phone rang only twice, and Bobby was momentarily lost when he heard Marlene's voice answer in German. All of his languages—German and English included—abandoned him, and a strange, strangled sound escaped his throat.

"Yes…" Marlene said in German tentatively and cautiously.

"I'm sorry," Bobby said in English; his ability to speak at least one language had returned. "This…this is Bobby Goren…from last night…"

"Bobby!" Marlene's voice was full of undisguised delight. "I'm so glad you called…and that you didn't make me wait…"

A warm glow began in Bobby's chest and moved throughout his body. "I…I tried to call a little earlier…" He decided against telling her how much earlier. "But there was no answer…"

"I'm sorry," Marlene said. Much to Bobby's relief, she switched to English. In the midst of unknown waters, he preferred to navigate with his native tongue. "I visited my mother…and I like to take walks on Sunday afternoons."

Bobby's heart jumped.

"Bobby?"

"It's just…" He briefly wondered if he should reveal so much so soon. "I know you may think I'm just saying this…but I'm not…I swear…but…that…that's what I like to do…"

"I should have called you and asked you to go," she said softly. He heard the smile in her voice.

"I couldn't today…I was on duty…" Bobby took a deep breath. "But I'm off all of next weekend…so if you have a couple of hours…"

"I have much more than a couple of hours for you."

Bobby grinned and leaned back in his chair. They talked happily about their plans, switching between German and English.

"You're right, Bobby," Marlene said at one point. "You do have some trouble with verbs."

"Could you help me?" Bobby asked.

"I look forward to it," she answered. "Oh, dear! Bobby, we've been talking for an hour!"

"I…I'm sorry," Bobby answered. "It's been…so good to talk to you."

"It's been good for me to talk to you, too." The warmth in her voice thrilled him. "I'll see you next Saturday morning at the bus stop."

"Marlene," Bobby said. "I probably won't be able to talk to you before then…"

"Don't worry," she said. "I'll be there…But we spend half the time speaking German…"

"Of course."

"Goodbye, Bobby."

"Goodbye, Marlene." He loved the sound of her name in his voice.

He arrived at the Mess Hall a few minutes before the end of dinner. Bobby Goren was the rare soldier who never complained about Army food; he was simply grateful that it arrived on schedule and there was plenty of it. That night he paid even less attention than usual to what went in his mouth and the words that came out of the other soldiers' mouths.

"So, Goren," one yelled from down the table. "What did you and the ice queen do last night?"

Bobby was suddenly aware that he was the subject of some attention. He stood, picked up his tray, and walked around the table.

"We talked, and I walked her to the bus station," he said quietly. "And she's very nice…she only freezes out jerks."

He turned and left several open mouthed men in his wake.

END Chapter Three


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks for the kind reviews. I have to admit I'm a bit fond of this fic myself. Some more wild speculation regarding Alex and Bobby's first loves--this chapter, Alex.

Chapter Four

Alex wiped off her hands with the least dirty of several rags near her. "Ok, Mrs. Webber…give her the gas," she said.

The elderly Oldsmobile's engine roared briefly and then settled into a contented purr. The grey haired woman behind the wheel grinned as Alex gave her a thumbs up.

"I feel so smart!" Lydia Webber said as she helped Alex clean up. "Six months ago I couldn't find an oil pan, let alone put a new one in."

"You're a good student, Mrs. Webber." Alex smiled at her.

"Only because I had such a good teacher, dear." She returned Alex's smile. "My late husband Murray would be so surprised…and I think pleased…he was always worried that I wouldn't be able to take care of myself."

"I think Mr. Webber would be very proud of you," Alex said.

The door at the far end of the garage opened.

"Hey!" Tom Wexstein called. "How's the teacher and her favorite pupil?"

"Very good!" Mrs. Webber replied. "We've got it running again!"

Alex was busy with putting away tools. Tom Wexstein wore his usual uniform of not quite tight T-shirt and equally fitted jeans, and, in spite of the fact that she saw him nearly every day in similar attire, Alex needed a moment to get the blush to leave her cheeks and her thoughts settle. "Damn," she thought as she placed several wrenches in their proper spaces, "I've got a crush on my boss."

In the six months since the end of her class with Tom, Alex had become one of his most valuable employees. As he vaguely hoped, her presence at his garage made women customers more comfortable; to his surprise, Alex seemed to attract customers of both genders. There were women who'd been treated badly by male mechanics, but there were also fathers who wanted their daughters treated decently, husbands who wanted happy wives, and young men enticed by a pretty girl who could wield a wrench with the best of them. Alex started by working only Saturday mornings, but her skills and ability to hold her own with just about anyone on his payroll led to Tom offering her a flexible schedule during the week. She fitted work between her classes and studying, and her fellow employees liked and respected her enough that no one complained. Tom also followed on his idea of offering classes in basic auto repair at the community college. They were enormously popular and provided Tom's garage with great publicity—the LEDGER published a story on the classes and the garage, and a local radio station offered Tom a program where he answered listener's questions.

Tom attempted to share the spotlight with Alex, but she replied, "I'm not doing this to get noticed. I'm doing this because the money is great; you and everyone have been great about the schedule; because I like the work and…"Alex hesitated and stared in her coffee. "Because I like you." Tom quickly changed the subject, much to Alex's apparent relief.

Tom managed to convince Alex's brother to also come to work for him and discovered he was as capable and hardworking as his younger sister. And, after a long argument, Tom finally got Alex to accept regular bonuses. "You deserve it," he told her. "You've increased the business and, more importantly, our reputation."

In spite of her work schedule's flexibility, Alex's life was highly regulated and consisted almost entirely of work and school. She carried a full load of classes, and even if she were a social animal, there was no time for so much as grabbing a pizza with her classmates. Her family and friends worried that she was missing out on the fun side of college, but Alex believed she had that. She liked working on the cars, liked hanging out with the guys and teaching. And she liked being with Tom Wexstein.

He appeared to enjoy her company too, but Alex had no illusions about his feelings for her. "I'm too young for him," she thought while trying to fall asleep one night. "I'm like a kid sister…a mascot…" She threw an arm over her eyes. "No, you're more than that…you do good work…and he likes you because of that…he respects you…" Alex sighed. "Wake up, girl…according to the guys at the shop, he's involved…but he never says anything…Argh!" She rolled over and pounded her pillow. "Go to sleep, Eames…just go to sleep."

Alex lived at home during her freshman year; it saved money, and, after hearing a few stories from her older brothers and her older sister's nearly disastrous first year in a dorm, her parents were more than willing to allow her to stay in her room and pay only as much room and board as she could afford. "We'll base it on your income," her father told her, and she knew he expected a few pennies at best. Her job divided her parents. They both liked Tom Wexstein and occasionally patronized his garage for major repairs and supplies, but her mother worried about Alex working with so many men and, Alex thought, considered this another failure in her attempt to make Alex a fine young lady. Her father thought the job was great aside from the danger that it might consume all of her time. But both parents were stunned by the money Alex brought home.

"You know, Lexie," her father said one night as they sat the dinner table. "You might want to consider this as a career."

"John!" Her mother said as she laid a plate down. "Don't give her ideas! Although I would like to know what you're considering, dear…"

Alex and her father shared an enigmatic smile that fortunately escaped her mother.

"I'm only in my first semester, Mom," Alex said. "I'm still exploring my options…" She glanced at her father. "But I think this car thing will be an interest, not a career." Alex couldn't tell if her father was pleased or disappointed by her answer.

"Whatever I choose," Alex thought as she continued to file tools away. "Cars or cops…it'll be a struggle for a small, blonde female…and it'll upset Mom…but I know what I want…I want to be the first lieutenant…or detective…in the Eames family…now if I can just keep Mom from realizing I'm majoring in criminal justice…"

"Alex," Tom Wexstein's voice broke in on her thoughts. "You are coming to the party next week?"

"Tom…I thought your family was Jewish…what's this party business…" Alex grinned.

"We are," Tom answered evenly. "That's why it's a HOLIDAY party…Seriously, I'd really like you to be there…prove to the guys you can actually wear a dress…"

"Well," Alex said. "There is this skirt I've been dying to wear…and my last final is that morning…"

"It's a date then." Tom looked extremely pleased. "I can even give you a lift."

"Actually, I think I can get the Mustang for that night," Alex said, although the idea had just occurred to her. "Maybe I can give you a lift."

"Ok," Tom said quickly. "But I get to drive it a little."

"Deal," Alex said. She shouldered her backpack. "I gotta get home and study."

Tom gently and lightly touched her arm. "Listen…if you need more time to study, just let me know…we'll work it out…you can make it up during your semester break…"

His touch briefly flustered Alex. "Uh…thank you…and thanks…well, for everything."

"You deserve it…you really do…" It was Tom's turn to be flustered.

Alex smiled. "Let's just agree that we've really helped each other a lot."

Tom returned the smile. "Ok."

"I'll see you next Saturday…be ready on time!" Alex laughed as she left the garage.

"Just you don't be late!" Tom called after her.

Alex's brother arrived to pick her up just as she left the building.

"Hey," she said as she tossed her backpack in the rear seat of that Dodge Charger that was his latest project. "I'm reserving the Mustang for next Saturday."

Her brother grinned at her. "Ya got a hot date, Lexie?"

Alex smiled slyly. "Maybe…maybe…"

End Chapter Four


	5. Chapter 5

All right, this is the Mature chapter with grownups (or in Bobby's case, close to grownup) doing grownup things. Again, thanks for the reviews.

Chapter Five

Bobby paced up and down in front of the bus stop. "She's not late, you dope," he muttered as he checked his watch for the tenth time in the last five minutes. "If you'd just stayed in bed and gotten some sleep instead of getting up so early…" He peered down the road as if he could will the bus to appear on the horizon. "I haven't been this excited since I was seven at Christmas." Bobby frowned at the memory. "I hope this works out better…"

He resumed his pacing. He'd managed to keep his weekend plans a secret; Josh knew, but Bobby felt anything he told his roommate was safe, although he was surprised by Josh's pleasure at learning Bobby was going on something resembling a date. There had been a touchy moment on Thursday evening in the Mess Hall when another soldier asked if Bobby could take a duty shift. Bobby's companions were so accustomed to his acceptance of extra duty that his polite refusal created a small stir, but Bobby's declaration of just needing some time off appeased all but the most curious.

Bobby huddled inside his leather jacket; he hadn't been sure what to wear, and he hoped his black turtleneck, black jeans, and leather jacket would be formal enough for anywhere Marlene would want to go. He'd decided to let her handle the course of actions throughout the day. He possessed both a vague hope and fear that he might not return to the base in the evening, but he fully expected to be in his own bed. Theoretically he had some knowledge of how to seduce women, but he was woefully lacking in practical experience, and he certainly didn't presume anything regarding Marlene's attentions.

"I'll just be honest as I can," he thought as he stared down the road. Only a small Volkswagon was in view. "I don't know how to play any games…" He smiled ruefully. "Especially in German…"

The beep of a car's horn broke into his thoughts. Bobby spun to see Marlene, bearing an expression with a striking resemblance to a satisfied cat, grinning at him from behind the wheel of that Volkswagon. She stepped from the car, and Bobby saw she was dressed in a near copy of his uniform—black turtleneck, black slacks, leather jacket. They stared at each other for a few moments before they began to laugh.

"I see you got the memo on wearing black," Bobby said.

Marlene returned his smile. "I was trying to dress for the weather and anywhere we might go…great minds think alike…"

"You look much better than me…you…you look terrific." Bobby looked at her shyly from beneath his long eyelashes.

Marlene was disconcerted by the compliment and his gaze. "Thank you," she said. "You look very handsome."

For a moment they stood in an awkward silence. Bobby blurted out, "You've got a car."

"Nothing gets past you people in intelligence, does it?" Marlene laughed.

Bobby liked her laugh very much; he liked the way it made her nose crinkle and her eyes shine and the way it made him feel.

"Well," he said. "The United States Army has spared no expense in training me."

"Actually," Marlene said. "It belongs to my friend Maria…the one who abandoned me at the club…I played on her guilt and got it for the weekend…I thought it might be useful…"

Bobby cocked his head; Marlene liked it when he looked at her that way. "That's the second thing I need to thank Maria for," he said shyly.

"C'mon," Marlene said. "I know a great place for breakfast…and I don't know about you, but I'm starving." She opened the car's passenger door and crawled across to the driver's seat. "This bug," she said to a surprised Bobby, "has a few bugs…and the driver's door is one of them."

Bobby squeezed into the passenger seat.

"Tight fit?" she asked.

"Not too bad…it's better than a jeep." The truth was that Bobby liked being so close to her.

"I just hope," Marlene said as she expertly shifted gears and pulled onto the road, "that you're not one of those men who has to drive."

"Nope…not me," Bobby answered. "I don't mind who drives as long as they know how."

Years later, Marlene and Bobby would remember the day as one of the best of each of their lives, although neither, if pressed, could offer more than a few vague details of it. Their memories were shrouded in a fog not unlike the cold drizzle that blanketed that early morning. Marlene always remembered the subtle scent of the single red rose Bobby shyly handed to her as they walked through the town's oldest section; years later the smell of cinnamon would take Bobby back to the small restaurant where they had breakfast. But much of the rest of the day was a wonderful blur. The weather finally cleared, and Bobby later recalled throwing bread crumbs to elegant but exasperated swans and the aggressive and anxious geese that were the source of their exasperation. In the evening, after a day of visiting castles and museums and Bobby's struggles not to laugh as Marlene whispered their "true" histories in his ear as the tour guides droned, they stepped into the back of a small, ancient church. Bobby feared that he might be underdressed—Marlene appeared to have the rare ability to look perfectly elegant in whatever she wore—but the audience wore everything from jeans to suits. Marlene had hesitated in suggesting the concert; an evening of Bach and Mozart wasn't what she would have chosen for most young American G.I.s, but Bobby responded to the music as he had everything that day—with a great, intense, joyful interest.

"Thank you for that," Bobby said as they stepped out into the cold, clear night. "The sound in there was marvelous…and the musicians wonderful…"

Marlene slipped her arm around his. "I've always loved Bach…even when I struggled through piano lessons…Mozart…I love the music…but he makes me feel guilty…as if I should have written at least ten symphonies by now."

Bobby grinned at her. "Hey…I'm hungry…you?"

"Yes," Marlene said. "And this is a nice place…" She indicated a small, elegant looking restaurant just ahead to their right.

Bobby looked apprehensive. "We're dressed ok? And this isn't one of those places with lots of forks?"

"No…it's an informal place…you'll be fine…and no more than one or two forks," Marlene answered. "You have some phobia about forks?"

"Not at all," Bobby answered smoothly. "It's just I had to go to a fancy dinner once…and there were all these forks…my captain's wife took pity on me and guided me through…but they still intimidate me a little."

"So," Marlene said as Bobby opened the restaurant door for her. "Western Europe is safe as long as the Russians don't send divisions of silverware."

Dinner was quiet and wonderful, with the waitress and Marlene gently teasing Bobby about his German verbs, and Bobby teasing them about their misunderstandings of American slang. At its conclusion, Marlene and Bobby walked the narrow, stone paved streets. She felt remarkably safe with Bobby. Part of this, Marlene thought, was simply his size—he was big and strong, and a very large part of her wanted to get lost in his arms. But far more than just his physical presence was Bobby's gentleness and intelligence. Throughout the day, Marlene discovered she revealed things to him she'd never told anyone—and he listened to her, listened in an intense, concentrated way that made her feel she was the only other person in the world.

"I want to go to the U.S.," she told him as they sat on a bench overlooking a river. "To New York…but I'm afraid…that I won't be smart enough…or strong enough…that all the women will be more beautiful…"

Bobby's arm rested around her shoulders; he softly squeezed her arm. "You're more than smart enough…strong enough…And I've never seen anyone in New York more beautiful than you…"

Marlene blinked. "You get results from that line, Bobby?" she asked teasingly.

To her surprise, he looked hurt. His arm slipped from her shoulders.

"I…" His voice was very soft, and he leaned forward to rest his head in his hands. "I don't have any lines…I really…" He glanced at her. "I don't have a lot of experience."

Marlene felt a pang of guilt. "I'm sorry," she said as she took his hand. "It…it was a kind thing for you to say…it's just that I've not been around men who say kind things to me lately."

Bobby stared at their intertwined fingers. "I'm just too sensitive." His thumb brushed back and forth across her hand and created small sparks against her skin. He gave her a small smile.

"Bobby," Marlene asked quietly. "How old are you?"

He looked away. "Twenty," he answered and prepared for her rejection which would be all the more terrible for her kindness.

But her hand remained linked with his. "I couldn't quite place your age," she said thoughtfully. "You seem so young in many ways, but you have so much responsibility…and you act like you've had a lot of responsibility in the past…"

"You…you don't mind?" He still stared at their hands.

"Not if you don't mind being with an older woman." Her free hand reached to guide Bobby to turn his face to her.

Bobby took a deep breath. "May I…please…kiss you?"

She smiled. "Of course."

She expected him to kiss her on the mouth, but Bobby brushed his lips against her forehead. Marlene was stunned by the emotions the kiss brought her. She pulled Bobby's face to her and kissed him on the lips, her tongue gently opening and probing his mouth. Bobby moaned deeply and wrapped his arms around her. She reluctantly abandoned his mouth and began to nip and kiss his neck; he responded by returning the kisses and bringing a hand to tangle in her short hair.

"Oh Bobby," Marlene murmured. "I hate this turtleneck…I want to touch more of you…" She blinked. "I'm sorry…I'm not usually…so…pushy…"

He ended his gentle assault on her hair. "I…I…" His head rested on her shoulder. "I don't know…what I'm usually like."

A clock in the distance rang.

"Marlene…it's one in the morning…if I'm going to make the bus…"

Marlene took a deep breath. The logical part of her brain, the one conjugating verbs and dealing with codes, set off warning flares and bells. But the other side, the one feeling and wanting the warmth of Bobby's touch, stared it down. "It's the logical side that told you Gunther was the one," Marlene thought. "And then argued you into staying with him long after you should have left."

"Do you," she whispered in Bobby's ear, "want to go back to the base?"

His grip grew slightly tighter. "No," he finally said. "I…I…want…want to stay…with you."

She stood, pulling him up with her. The foggy drizzle of the morning had given way to a cold, clear, cloudless night. Bobby's arm moved around her shoulder; Marlene wrapped an arm around as much of his waist as she could. They walked back to the car.

"You won't get in trouble?" Marlene asked as she opened the door.

"No," he answered. "I've got a pass for the whole weekend." He blushed at her smile. "I…I didn't expect…it's just what my C.O. gave me…I didn't expect anything, Marlene…except a few hours with you…everything…today…" He smiled shyly. "Yesterday, I guess now…it's been…it is…wonderful…but I don't know how these things are supposed to go…" He stared at the ground. "I don't want to lie to you…or hurt you…I can't promise you anything…I don't know what I'll be doing next week…"

Marlene placed a hand on Bobby's chest. "I know…it's all right."

They rode in an oddly comfortable silence to her apartment building, which Bobby regarded with a skeptical eye.

"I know," Marlene said as they walked in. "All of the flaws of 1960s architecture with none of the charms."

"I wasn't aware that 1960s architecture had any charms," Bobby replied dryly.

Marlene's laugh had a touch of nerves about it. "True, but it's close to the base, on the bus line, and isn't too expensive. And not so bad on the inside."

As they approached her apartment, Marlene's nerves became shakier. "I was so sure about this," she thought. "But what do I really know about him? He's from New York, he's twenty, he works in intelligence…I know he's a good listener…all day, I've told him so much about me…but…but he's so quiet…" She hesitated at her door.

"Marlene." Bobby's voice was very soft. "If you've changed your mind…I could easily walk to the base from here."

Marlene turned to face him. Everything about Bobby—his posture, his eyes, his voice—said that he desperately did NOT want to go back to the base. She felt her heart melt.

"It's all right," she said as she unlocked her door. "It's just that, aside from my mother and a couple of friends, you're the first person to see my new apartment."

Unlike the grey, dreary building that housed, the small apartment was bright and cheerful. After he handed his jacket to her, Bobby scanned her book shelves.

"Sorry," he said. "I'm afraid I'm a terrible snoop."

She smiled at him.

"I'm afraid a lot of these books are closed to me," he said with genuine regret. "I'm having a terrible time learning to read German."

"Don't worry," she said as she stepped closer to him. "I'm sure you'll get it."

His attention was suddenly focused on the view from her balcony window.

"Is the courtyard that fascinating?" she asked.

"It…it's just that…" Bobby rubbed the back of his neck with one of his large hands. He began to pace in the small space.

"Poor baby," Marlene thought. "He's adorable."

He ceased pacing and turned to look at her. "I…I don't know how to do this…the only way I can…can figure out how to do this…is to just tell you the truth…and…and…"

His eyes were filled with confusion, fear, and, she thought, shame. She laid a hand again on his chest. "It's all right."

"I…I don't want you to think…I'm making any presumptions…if you want me to go…"

Marlene studied him. "It couldn't be, could it?" she thought. "He's good looking…handsome really…and he gets better looking the more you look at him…and he's sweet and kind and smart and funny…I'm not…surely I'm not…"

He vibrated with tension. Marlene pulled his head down so that their foreheads touched. "Bobby," she said as gently and calmly as she could. "Is this…will it…are you a virgin?"

He started, and she feared he might run away.

"Technically," he finally answered. "No…but…it…it…well, it's almost impossible for any teenage boy's sexual experience to be bad…but…it…it wasn't good." He smiled weakly. "Am I acting that…that stupid?"

"No," she whispered and reached to wrap her arms around his neck. His head rested on her shoulder, and she felt his soft stubble against her cheek.

"I…I…" His soft voice rumbled in her ears. "I don't want you to feel sorry for me." He'd long abandoned his German; she knew he wanted to be at least sure of how he expressed his feelings.

"I don't," Marlene answered. "I like you…I like being with you…I want to be with you." She kissed him on the cheek.

He returned the kiss eagerly and hungrily. For a moment they were lost in their kisses. She finally broke the kiss and gently slipped from his embrace.

"Here," she said and led him to the bedroom.

He hesitated in the doorway. She released his hand and moved to the bed. She turned on the small lamp on the table and removed her shoes and socks. Marlene looked up at Bobby; he still stood in the doorway; the soft light surrounded him in a golden silhouette. His body quivered with tension. Marlene rose and walked to him.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered in a husky voice. "You look like you're made of spun gold."

Marlene pulled him into the room and her. She kissed him deeply, and he responded eagerly. She reluctantly pulled away from him.

"I need you out of this," she said and reached for the bottom of his sweater. He yanked it over his head and dropped it on the floor. Marlene kissed and nipped at his now available neck, and Bobby moaned in pleasure. She pulled his white T-shirt from his jeans.

"Just how much do you have on?" she complained with a smile.

"Less than you," he mumbled and reached for the bottom of her sweater.

"No," she said playfully as she finally freed the shirt from his body. "You first."

He stood shyly before her. She admired the newly developed muscles and his broad shoulders. She moved closer to him and played with the soft skin and hair on his chest. He moaned again in pleasure, and it was easy to back him up to the bed. She unzipped his jeans and pulled them down to reveal his white boxers.

"G.I. issue?" she grinned as she slipped a hand inside the boxers.

Bobby groaned as she tenderly stroked him, but he hadn't quite lost sense of who or where he was. "Not…not what you're touching," he gasped.

She laughed, and used his moment of distraction to pull down his boxers. It was her turn to gasp.

Bobby stepped out of his jeans and boxers and stumbled back to fall heavily on the bed. As he struggled to remove his shoes and socks, he stared up at Marlene. "Is…is something wrong?"

She smiled and stepped towards him. "You're beautiful…and…" Marlene tried to find the right words. "Big." She pulled her sweater over her head.

"Oh," Bobby said softly. "You're beautiful." He pulled her to him, and for a few moments he rested his head against the soft skin of her tummy. He trembled as he fumbled with the straps of her bra.

"Let me help you," Marlene said gently. She reached behind her and quickly unsnapped her bra.

A sound somewhere between a sigh and a gasp caught in Bobby's throat. His hands hovered over Marlene's breasts.

"It's all right," she said. "You can touch me…I want you to touch me."

His hands cupped her breasts; Marlene gasped and arched into his touch. One of his hands could easily cover an entire breast.

He pulled his hands away at the sound of her gasp. "Did I hurt you?"

She ached for the return of his touch. She pulled his hands back to her breasts. "No…don't worry…you won't hurt me…I know…I promise…"

She pushed him back on the bed. Bobby watched in wonder as she shed her slacks and panties. Marlene reached to turn off the lamp, but his voice stopped her.

"Please…if it's ok…I'd like to see you…you're so beautiful…like…like a statue of a goddess…but you're real."

"All right," Marlene smiled. "But I get to be on top…"

"Yes…whatever you want," Bobby gasped.

As she draped her body over him, Marlene wondered at Bobby's gentleness and flexibility. None of her lovers had been so thoughtful, so cautious, so desperate to please her. He touched with need and want and desire, but also with a tenderness that suggested he thought her skin was made of fragile porcelain.

"Wait," he gasped as she touched and nipped and kissed him. "I…we need…in my pants."

Marlene reached over the end of the bed and found the small package in one of his pockets. She opened it.

"No presumptions, Bobby?" Marlene smiled as she moved to slip the condom on him.

He blinked. "I…oh…oh God…Marlene…I…"

"I know…just prepared." She again draped over him.

They kissed and touched and stroked each other. He was inexperienced, but Bobby was a good student, following Marlene's moves with touching eagerness and care. Finally, when it seemed neither of them could wait any longer, Marlene slowly, torturously lowered her body on him.

"Wait…please wait," she gasped and looked down at him. Bobby was desperate with need and passion, but her words held him motionless. She lifted his hands to her breasts. "Now," she breathed and cried out as Bobby drove into her.

They were both terribly close. Marlene's body flamed, flared, and collapsed. Bobby cried out her name, thrust into her one last time, and fell into a glorious nothing.

She recovered first and found she was collapsed across his heaving chest. She lifted her body carefully and removed and disposed of the condom with equal caution. Marlene returned to sprawl over Bobby's body. His roving hands found her face and softly caressed it. He drew her lips to his and kissed her tenderly.

"Thank…thank you." His voice was so low she could barely hear it. "That…that was wonderful…"

"Yes," she wondered. "It was."

His eyes slowly lost their dazed look. "Was it…did I…"

"Yes…you beautiful boy…yes," she answered.

"What…what…do we do now?"

Marlene reached to pull the sheet and blanket over them. "We hold each other…and sleep."

His lips brushed her hair. "Thank you…again."

She laid her head against his chest and let the sound of his heart put her to sleep. And Bobby tried not to cry with joy and fear as he touched her silky hair.

End Chapter Five


	6. Chapter 6

Again, there are adults (well, Alex is almost one) doing adult things.

Chapter Six

"You look great, Lexie…but you're right…Dad would have had a fit if he saw you in that outfit."

Alex grinned. "Thanks, Sis…and thanks for letting me stop by here and change…I'm saving a lot of money by living at home…but there are some issues…like clothes…"

"You really should think about moving out," Alex's sister said. "Just because I screwed up doesn't mean you shouldn't get a chance." She sighed. "And you've always had a better head on your shoulders than me."

"Not always," Alex said wryly. "Besides, you're older…I got to watch you make the mistakes…"

Her sister grinned. "Well, just remember…as far as Mom and Dad are concerned, you're staying here tonight…and you don't have to worry about your big brother either…so stay out as late as you want and have a good time…and if you can't be good…"

Alex laughed. "I know…be careful! I'll try to do both!"

Alex drove the Mustang carefully to Tom's house. She was sorry that her brother, desperately studying for his exams, wouldn't be at the party to run interference for her; she was grateful that he wouldn't be there to watch her every move. She was nervous—she wanted to make a good impression on Tom's family and friends, but above all she wanted to make a good and different impression on Tom. She knew he liked her—she thought there might be an attraction that went beyond that. "'Course," she thought. "I could be wrong…it's not like I have this vast knowledge of men…and my first choice wasn't that good." Alex frowned at the memory of Tommy Flynn. "What do I know," she thought. "Well, whatever happens, happens. I'm not going to be nervous about THAT. I'm not looking for anything permanent." She smiled as she doubled parked the Mustang in front of Tom's house; everyone in the neighborhood did it, and it would cut down on the amount of awkward time in the house. "And, of course, he may not be interested in me at all…it may be the car!" Alex thought as she started to knock.

Tom answered the door before Alex finished her knock. "He's as nervous as I am," she thought.

"Wow," he said. "You…you look great…you do have legs."

Alex grinned. "Yea…I borrowed them for the evening along with the car…You look terrific too."

He wore a dark blue suit on the edge of being black, a pale blue shirt, and a grey tie baring both colors. His dark, curly hair was for once under some kind of control, and when he smiled at Alex she felt the familiar sense of her insides turning to goo.

She offered the keys to Tom. "So, you want to drive?" she grinned.

In spite of her nerves at meeting Tom's family and friends, the evening was a delightful blur to Alex. She later remembered through a haze the admiration of both the Mustang and her by the garage's other employees; her first taste of a decent champagne; the otherworldly feeling when Tom glided her across the dance floor. Between dances and sips of champagne Alex encountered a lively woman in her sixties whose gray hair concealed none of her beauty. Alex shyly introduced herself to this woman that she hoped was Mrs. Wexstein.

She was Mrs. Wexstein, and she was delighted to meet Alex. "Alex Eames," she said. "Of the Mustang and the brother."

"Yes," Alex smiled. "And tonight I'll claim them both."

"Tom has told Murray—his dad—and me a lot about you," the older woman said as she guided Alex to a table. "All of it very good. You and your brother have helped us a lot."

"Tom's been great to us," Alex answered. "It's hard to find a job with such a great schedule and pay when you're going to school…and it's even better when it's something you like to do."

"I know Tom would give you both full time jobs if you wanted," Mrs. Wexstein said. She studied Alex carefully for a moment. "But you have other plans…"

"Yes," Alex said quietly. Although she had just met this woman, she felt she could trust her. "I do."

"I know that you probably don't want any advice," Mrs. Wexstein said with a smile. "But, for what it's worth, here's mine. Don't let anyone tell you you can't do anything JUST because you're a woman. There are some things you won't be able to do, for whatever reason…but it shouldn't have anything to do with your gender…and never settle…compromise, but don't settle…there's a difference. If I'd listened to people and settled, I'd now be an old woman with a couple of marriages under my belt living in a tiny apartment waiting for my children to visit instead of the ravishing and happy creature before you." She struck a pose, and Alex laughed.

She liked Mrs. Wexstein a lot and discovered that it took little encouragement for her to begin calling her Edie. She also liked Mr. Wexstein, a quiet, handsome man with more salt than pepper in his hair and a perpetually bemused expression.

"You're wondering," he said as he handed Alex a glass of champagne, "how Edie and I got together."

Alex smiled. "If I were to guess, I'd say it's because you make each other laugh."

"You're very observant," Mr. Wexstein smiled. "It usually takes people a few meetings with us to realize that." He looked at his wife with affection as she walked towards them. "Forty years, and she still makes me laugh and surprises me…and tells me I do the same to her."

Alex had fears that she might be out of place at the party and with Tom's family and friends, but the evening proved to be the most enjoyable hours she'd experienced since the start of first college semester. Tom's older sister shared her parents and brother's humor, even if she didn't share their love and knowledge of cars. "My form of rebellion," she told Alex. "I barely know where to put the gas in." The employees of the Wexstein shop were treated as members of a large extended family and encouraged to enjoy the party. Alex found herself performing the Electric Slide and the Chicken Dance with an equally uncoordinated mass of bodies, and she was thrilled when, near the end of the evening, Tom led her gently and genially on to the dance floor. He was a graceful dancer, able to deftly lessen the difference in their heights. When the music ended, they walked out to the cold, clear night.

"Do you need your coat?" Tom asked softly.

"Maybe later," Alex answered. "Right now the cold feels good."

Tom quietly moved closer to her. "You may be a little tipsy from that champagne. It can go to your head pretty quickly if you're not used to it."

Alex stepped back so that she could be closer to Tom. "I know," she laughed softly. "Some friends and I shared a couple of bottles once…not nearly as good as what I've had tonight…we all got a little…" Alex shook her head.

"Alex," Tom said in mock shock. "It's not even legal for you to drink right now…don't tell me you've been doing things you're not supposed to…"

She stared up at the sky. "I'm not as innocent as you think I am," Alex said wistfully.

They were standing very close to each other now, so close that Alex could smell Tom's cologne, Tom Alex's perfume. Tom gently laid his hands on Alex's shoulders and nuzzled her hair.

"Alex," he whispered. "You're so beautiful…so sweet…"

She turned and wrapped her arms around his neck. Their lips met, and Alex's head spun.

"Alex?" Tom's anxious voice broke through the haze.

She blinked and managed to focus on him. "I'm all right," she whispered. "Just a little overwhelmed…"

He pulled away from her but held her hands. "I…the party's breaking up…we should get you home…"

He guided her back into the hall; she retrieved her coat while Tom said good by to the few remaining guests. They walked out to the parking lot; the weather suddenly seemed much colder, and Alex shivered in spite of her coat. Tom cautiously slipped his arm around her waist; she leaned into his warmth and strength. They reached the Mustang, and Tom opened the passenger door for her. Her thoughts racing, Alex sat quietly as Tom slipped into the car, started it, and maneuvered it through the parking lot.

"How can I let him know I'm…well, whatever I am…" she thought. "Without making me look too…too aggressive or something…that I know it's a bad idea in a lot of ways…to let him know that I'm not some naïve kid…that I don't expect some huge commitment…"

"Alex?" She became aware Tom was waiting for a response from her.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Lost in my thoughts…"

She noted that Tom gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were white.

"I just asked…do you think you'll be ok to drive home?" His voice was soft and tense. "Or…or…you could stay…."

Alex took a deep breath. "Or I could stay…"

Tom's body became tense, and a heavy silence filled the car. After a few moments, he slowed and stopped the car. He shut off the engine and turned to look at Alex.

"Look," he said quietly and intensely. "I've never been good at romantic games…I can only give you the truth…I've been…I have to be honest…I don't know if I love you, Alex, but it's damn close to that if it isn't…and I've felt that way since I first met you…there are all sorts of reasons we shouldn't do anything…I'm your boss…I'm older than you…and…" He struggled for a moment. "I'm in this limbo…there's a girl…we've talked about…well, around at least, marriage…but she's going to med school in Chicago…and needed to concentrate on that…and she wants to be sure…and I can understand that and I want it, too…" He gripped the steering wheel for support. "I want you to…if anything happens…to have your eyes open…and not to feel any pressure…if nothing happens, this conversation didn't happen…"

Alex returned Tom's gaze. "I…I've thought about most of those things," she said quietly. "I…I don't know if I love you…you're right…I'm awfully young and maybe I don't know enough…but honestly, I'm not looking for anything permanent…there's things I want to do in my life…with my life…I think I can separate my work from my life…maybe I can't…but…but with you…" She bit her lip. "I'd like to find out. But I don't want to hurt or lie to you."

Tom leaned over and tenderly kissed her on the cheek. "And I don't want to hurt or lie to you." He turned the key in the ignition and eased the car back into traffic. The few minutes drive to Tom's house went by both too slowly and too quickly. Tom carefully parked the Mustang in the narrow drive next to the house. Before he unbuckled his seatbelt he turned to Alex.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Yes," she said without hesitating. "Although…I have to tell you…I'm not on anything…for protection…"

Tom smiled and gently brushed his fingers against her cheek. "That's ok…I've got that covered…a guy should…"

As they left the car and entered the house, Alex's thoughts wandered unwillingly back to the night she lost her virginity. "This," she thought. "Is so different. Tom is so open and honest…he actually seems to care about me…he isn't pressing or pushing me…"

He took her coat from her when they were in the house. "You want a drink?" he asked.

"No…I just…I want you." She stepped up to him with a confidence she didn't feel.

He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her deeply and passionately. Alex's head spun; if Tom hadn't held her so closely she might have fainted.

"Alex? Are you ok?"

"Y-yes," she whispered and rested her head on his shoulder.

He led her up the stairs to his bedroom. Tom turned on only the small lamp resting on the tiny table next to his bed. In the soft faint light Alex saw the small room glowed with a pale, warm color; the bed was covered with a reassuringly deep brown spread. Tom pulled it back to reveal soft cream colored sheets.

"Safe," Alex thought. "I'm safe here…I'm safe with him."

He sat on the bed and slipped off his shoes and socks. He looked up and smiled at her, and Alex shivered.

"Please," Tom said, his arms reaching for her. "Come to me."

Still shaking, she stepped up to him; he wrapped his arms around her, and she rested her chin on his head.

"Alex…beautiful, sweet Alex…am I the first…are you…"

"No," she answered her voice shaking. "But I wish you were…"

His arms tightened around her for a moment. "Someone…treated you badly…" There was a trace of anger in his voice that quickly disappeared. "I won't…don't you let me…tell me when you like or don't like what I do…"

"Kiss me again," Alex pleaded. He did, standing and gently placing her on the bed as he did.

"Please," he whispered. "May I undress you?"

"Y..Yes."

He removed her clothes agonizingly slowly, stopping to kiss and lick and touch the skin as he revealed it. His hands were large and gentle, and Alex cried out in pleasure as his callused fingertips brushed and teased her breasts. His lips sent sparks across her body as he murmured words she barely understood. "Beautiful, lovely Alex…so strong…so sweet…I love to touch you…" Her fevered brain managed to understand that he wanted her to respond—that it pleased him to know he was pleasing her. He briefly abandoned her body to remove his clothes, and when he turned to stand naked before her, Alex gasped.

"You're…you're beautiful," she whispered.

He pulled a small packet from the table. "Not nearly as beautiful as you."

Tom stretched out over Alex and resumed his sweet torture of her body. She lost sense of time and place; her mind was barely able to respond the sensations pouring over her. The soft touch of the sheets, the lovely scent of her and Tom's arousal, and his ministrations blurred together. He kissed and nipped at her body; Alex became aware his hands and tongue were tenderly, slowly reaching and pulling inside her, sending waves of pleasure through her. For an agonizing moment, he was gone, and Alex heard the rustle of a package. Then he returned, hovering over her.

"Are you ready…may I?" Tom asked in a husky voice.

Alex could scarcely speak. "Yes…yes…please."

He entered her slowly and carefully. Alex felt a brief, almost gentle pain, and then he filled her, steadily, wonderfully. Waves of pleasure again pulsed through her. She heard strange whimpers and realized she was the source of those sounds. And then the waves crashed within her and swept her away.

"Alex? Baby? Are you all right?" Tom's voice came to her through a lovely haze.

She blinked and gazed up at Tom, who looked down at her with a combination of tender amusement and concern. She smiled at him and raised a shaky hand to touch his chin.

"Wow," Alex said. Her voice was unsettlingly unfamiliar to her. "That…that was wonderful…"

Tom smiled at her. "Good…you were pretty wonderful yourself."

He carefully and gently moved Alex so that she rested in his arms. "Thank you," he whispered as he drew the covers over them.

"Thank you," Alex murmured as her body relaxed and curled against his.

"So," she thought as she drifted to sleep. "This is how it's supposed to be."

End Chapter Six


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

"So," he thought as he drifted awake. "This is how it's supposed to be."

Bobby looked down at Marlene; she lay with the upper half of her body curled on his chest. Her head was turned, and her soft hair lightly tickled his chest as it rose and fell with his breaths.

"I've never actually slept with someone in the same bed," Bobby wondered. "I like it. I like it a lot."

He tried not to move; he didn't want to wake Marlene and lose the warm, soft feeling of her body against his.

"Why?" he thought. "Why am I here?" His hand moved, almost of its own will, to barely brush her hair. She stirred slightly and smiled; Bobby's heart soared.

"Stop it," Bobby thought. "Don't analyze…just…just go with it."

His body expressed a basic need. Bobby carefully slid from Marlene's grasp and from beneath the covers. He shivered slightly as the cold air touched his naked body. He stood and gently pulled the covers over Marlene. "Ok," he thought running his hand through his hair, "where's the bathroom."

Bobby returned from the bathroom; Marlene, the same contented smile on her face, still slept. "Did I," he wondered as he slipped on his boxers and T-shirt, "put that there?" He remembered reading that women liked to have men make breakfast for them. "I don't know about her," Bobby thought. "But I'd like it if she did it for me…and I can do that if she's got anything in her kitchen."

"What's that?" Marlene thought groggily. Her half-awake mind couldn't quite identify the rich, warm smell. "Coffee…someone is making coffee…Bobby?" She sat up slowly and stretched. Other scents—of bacon, eggs, and warm bread—reached her. She stood, pulled on her robe, and slid her feet into her slippers. After a quick trip to the bathroom, she padded into the kitchen and paused in the doorway. She smiled. Bobby filled the tiny room, but in spite of his large size he was gracefully moving around the stove. He caught sight of her and smiled at her, and Marlene felt her heart melt.

"Good morning," he said cheerfully and in German. "I was going to hmpf!"

She strode to him and kissed him deeply. After a few moments, he reluctantly pulled away from her. "Hey." Flustered, he switched to English. "The eggs will burn."

"Do you mean to tell me," Marlene said as she untangled from Bobby. "That in addition to everything else, you can cook?"

Bobby smiled as he stirred the eggs. "I have a limited repertoire." He pointed toward a pot with the spoon. "There's coffee."

"I hope," Marlene said as she poured a cup, "that it's not that brown water Americans call coffee." She took a sip. "Wow…it's real coffee!"

Bobby grinned at her reaction.

"I keep forgetting that you're not the typical American," Marlene said.

"I'm not sure there is such a creature," Bobby answered. "There," he said, setting a plate before her.

The eggs, filled with all sorts of things Bobby had salvaged from her refrigerator, were wonderful; it helped that Marlene was ravenously hungry.

"I'm glad you like them," Bobby said.

"Well, I'm glad you knew how to feed me after last night," Marlene replied.

Bobby turned a not unattractive shade of red as he started to clear the table.

"And you clean up after yourself!" Marlene wondered.

"I have many talents," Bobby laughed.

As she moved to help him with the dishes, Bobby took Marlene by the waist and kissed her hungrily. "Some of them I just learned about," he said in a suddenly husky voice. "And I'd like to practice them…"

Marlene was glad that she'd told her mother she wouldn't be able to visit her this day and that she'd recently visited the grocery. They spent the day in bed, leaving only for food and drink (occasionally employing some items such as chocolate sauce in creative ways) and joint forays into the showers. They made love, taught each other the obscene slang of their respective languages, made love, wrestled, made love, talked, and made love. Bobby's energy and curiosity were unending; Marlene had never been so exhilarated and so exhausted. It was dusk, with shadows creeping up the bedroom walls, before they both lay quietly in the bed. Marlene lay curled on Bobby's chest; one of his hands tenderly twisted through her hair. He was big and warm and strong, and Marlene listened to his heartbeat soothe her.

"I'm sorry," his voice rumbled in her ear. "I need to get back…"

She rose reluctantly from his grasp and looked at him. "Already?"

He smiled at her. "It's been two days…I think it's time." He hesitated for a moment; his hand began making soft circles on her back. "I…this…this was good for you, Marlene? I didn't hurt you…or take up your time…"

She folded her arms and rested again on his chest. "It…it was wonderful, you big, beautiful boy…it's the best use of my time I've had in a long time."

He swallowed. "I…I promise…next time…we'll get out of your apartment…that is…" His voice became soft and uncertain. "If there is a next time…"

"Of course there'll be a next time," Marlene said with a gentle laugh.

"Thank you," he whispered. His voice trembled. He kissed her deeply and slipped out of the bed.

"I should be able to get leave next weekend…I'll call you tomorrow…if that's all right…"

She lay back against the pillows and watched as he put on his clothes; she liked to watch the muscles in his back move as he stretched and leaned. "It's more than all right…and if you don't call me, I'll call you until you answer." She moved to rise from the bed, but he stopped her.

"No…please…don't get up…it's cold…and if you come with me, I'm not sure I'll be able to get on the bus."

She smiled at him.

He pulled his sweater over his head and looked down at her. "Marlene…thank you…so much…these two days…" He struggled to speak. "This has meant so much…thank you…."

His gratitude broke her heart. "You're welcome…and thank you as well."

He leaned over her and kissed her gently on the forehead. "Goodbye, you beautiful, gold, angel."

She couldn't think; he was at the door before she could voice her thoughts. "Bobby?"

He turned, and she thrilled to the site of him framed in the doorway. "Please, Marlene," he said in a husky voice. "If you argue with me, I won't be able to go."

Holding the blankets to her, she sat up. "I won't," she said gently. "It's just…considering where we work…I think it would be a good idea…if we're quiet about this."

He cocked his head for a brief moment as he considered her words. "Of course…it would be difficult…especially for you…" He glanced at his watch. "I'm sorry…I have to go…"

"Goodbye, you beautiful boy."

He smiled at her, turned and left; she heard the door click shut. Marlene rose and wrapped her robe around her body. She moved to the bedroom window and peered through the curtains. She saw Bobby standing at the bus stop beneath the street light; he leaned against the small shelter and gazed up at her window. His breath created small, wispy clouds in the light. She smiled at the sight, and then her breath caught in her throat as he stepped away from the shelter and spun gracefully and joyously around the light.

End Chapter Seven


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Alex woke to the warm, rich smell of coffee. She yawned, blinked, and looked into Tom's dark brown eyes.

"Hey, sleepyhead," he said gently.

"Hey, yourself," she answered. She started to sit up, realized she was naked, and, suddenly shy, pulled the covers around her. "You brought me coffee."

"Yea," Tom answered. "I've seen you in the morning when you haven't had caffeine…It's not pretty." He smiled as she took the cup and tried to keep the covers around her. "You know," he said softly. "It's not like there's anything I haven't seen…"

Her face reddened slightly, and Alex looked shyly at Tom over the top of her cup. "I…I'm not real…uh…experienced with this part…"

He softly pushed her hair back from her face.

Strengthened by the coffee and Tom's kindness, Alex went on. "Truth is, I'm not all that experienced with any of this."

Tom frowned.

"It's ok," Alex said quickly. "It's not like you're corrupting me or something…"

"C'mon," Tom said with a smile. "I'll get you some breakfast."

He treated her like a princess through the next few months, always picking her up for their dates, sending her flowers for no apparent reason, and showering her with presents. Tom discovered that Alex, while enormously grateful for any token of appreciation, was not a great fan of jewelry, so he presented her with clothes, books, and other, as Alex put it, "more useful" items. Some of her friends commented on the improvement in her wardrobe; she managed to allay her parents' suspicions by keeping part of her gifts at her sister's apartment (in return, Mary got to borrow the clothes she liked). Alex often felt overwhelmed by Tom's gifts.

"I can't begin to thank you," she said one morning as they enjoyed coffee together after a particularly enjoyable night. "And I can't give you anything in return."

He gazed at her. "You give me you," he said quietly. "And that's something I can't begin to give you anything for." Alex felt her insides turn to mush.

At work, they maintained a highly professional relationship—if anything, Tom and Alex approached each other in a more formal way. At first, Alex found the secrecy, which she desired as much as Tom, uncomfortable. Aside from her unhappy experience with Tommy Flynn, she wasn't accustomed to hiding things from her parents. Living at home complicated everything, and both parents commented on her sudden closeness to her older sister. Alex explained that Mary's apartment was closer to campus—which it was—although she didn't add that she rarely slept there on the nights she claimed. There were more late night study sessions, only about half of which involved books and other students. Her life was much more complex, but Alex thrilled to the great secret of her first serious romance. It was intoxicating to meet Tom in out of the way places for brief encounters or preparing ruses so that no one knew where she was spending the night. Her older sister was her one ally, and Mary seemed to take as much pleasure as Alex and Tom in the conspiracy. The two sisters frequently giggled over quick cups of coffee after Tom dropped Alex off at Mary's apartment in the morning.

And Tom…Tom was wonderful. Gentle, funny, kind, he reveled in giving Alex pleasure, in making her happy. Alex didn't consider whether they had a future; she lacked the time. She enjoyed what she had.

"I wish," she said one unusually relaxed morning as they lingered in bed, "you were the first."

Tom smiled at her. "That's a very sweet thing to say."

There were clouds in this scenario. Alex's mother decried her lack of social life; Alex's schedule was even more crowded; her already limited contact with other students outside of class became even more restricted. But, in love or something like it, and her classes going well, Alex was blissfully oblivious to any potential storms. Thanks to her work for Tom and his contributions to her closet, her bank account was remarkably healthy, enough so that she considered moving into an apartment or dorm for her sophomore year.

"I plan to take some classes this summer," Alex told Mary one day as she waited for Tom to pick her up. "And work, of course. Unless I really blow my finals—which I WILL NOT—my scholarship will be fine. I'm going to apply for a few more, and think I have a chance at least two or three. With a little luck, I can graduate in three years and head on to the academy."

Her sister turned from the dishes she was drying. "Lexie…you're still sure about police work…and the NYPD? I know Dad's thrilled, but he's also warned you…and so has Mike…and Uncle Tim…"

"And Grandpa and cousin Matt and everyone," Alex laughed. "I know…I know it's what I want…or at least it's what I need to try. I don't want any "what ifs" about this."

Mary shook her head. "Mom will have a fit."

Alex sighed. "I think Mom will have a fit no matter what I do…we're like oil and water…I love her, and I know she loves me, but we just don't click…never have…"

"While you and Dad always seem to connect," Mary laughed.

"Yea, well almost always." Alex smiled. "I don't think he'd be too thrilled about Tom."

Mary handed Alex a cup of coffee. "Seriously, you are having some fun?" she asked. "You don't have to go crazy like me…" Alex grinned. "But you should have some fun in college…you've always been so serious…studied and worked so hard…I don't mean to butt into your life…"

"But you will," Alex laughed.

Mary returned the laugh. "Yea, I will…but you know you scarcely dated in high school, Lexie…you don't have a lot of experience…I don't want you to miss out on things…"

"Hey, you're the one helping me carry on this secret affair," Alex said. "I'm sorry," she said in response to Mary's frown. "Don't worry…both Tom and I…we know it's not that serious…"

"Ok," her sister said, although Alex detected more than a note of skepticism in her voice. Mary turned back to drying the dishes. "Oh," she said over her shoulder. "Guess who I saw yesterday?"

Alex's attention was now on her psychology textbook; it was not her favorite subject, but she believed she should learn how to out think criminals even if she didn't want to know why they did what they did. "Who?" she asked offhandedly.

"Tommy Flynn," her sister said, and a cold hand gripped Alex's heart. She struggled not to choke on her coffee. Mary, fortunately, had her back to Alex. "You dated him in high school for a while, right?"

"Uh…yea." Alex managed to keep her voice even.

"Whatever happened to the two of you?"

Alex tried to act as if her psychology text was the most fascinating book in the world. "He…he was a jerk," she finally said.

"Yea, I heard that from some people after you broke up with him." Mary, drying a glass, turned back to Alex. "Well, the mighty have really fallen. He's working as a janitor or something like that for one of his uncles…and apparently he won't have that much longer if he doesn't stop drinking and smoking pot…"

Alex had the unpleasant feeling of a fascination with the troubles of someone who had hurt her. "Really," she said, trying not to show much interest. "I thought he had a full ride football scholarship somewhere…"

"He did…but I guess he didn't last past the first tests and practices…talk about a flameout…" Mary glanced at Alex. "I'm sorry, Alex…I don't mean to trash him…"

Alex tried to squelch the triumphant feeling that had appeared in her at Mary's description of Tommy Flynn's woes. "It's ok…there's a reason we broke up…"

"You were probably lucky…I heard he got a girl pregnant and pretty much abandoned her…tough break for her…"

Alex silently murmured a prayer of thanks. Tom Wexstein was, fortunately and wonderfully, no Tommy Flynn.

She made few demands on Tom, partly because she was so happy with him and partly because she didn't know what demands she should or could make. She didn't notice Tom's slight anxiety as summer approached, although she did notice that his presents became more frequent and expensive—he even persuaded her to accept a few pieces of jewelry.

One glorious spring morning that held more than a promise of summer they shared breakfast in Tom's small kitchen. Tom hesitantly asked what Alex's summer plans were. Somewhat surprised at the question, Alex revealed her hopes for a few classes, lots of work, and time with Tom. He shifted uncomfortably at the last item.

"No plans for a vacation? Get away for a while?" he asked.

"No…I'm trying to save up so I can move into a dorm…maybe an apartment…which would make things a lot easier for us…" She frowned when Tom didn't respond immediately. "Is something wrong?"

"No…no," he answered quickly. "Just a lot of things on my mind…don't worry…you'll get as many hours as you want…of work and me." He smiled at her.

Alex didn't think about the conversation again; she didn't have time. In the week before her final exams for the spring semester she barely saw Tom, and when she did she failed to register his increasing anxiety. After she finished her last exam, Alex was surprised to discover Tom waiting outside the building for her.

"Hey," she said happily.

"Hey," he answered and escorted her to his latest project, a silver Barracuda. He tossed her backpack in the back seat. "C'mon…let's celebrate…I've go Yankee tickets."

In spite of the Yankees' loss, it was a wonderful evening. As they drove towards Tom's home, Alex saw him giving her a sad smile, the same one she'd seen throughout the evening.

"C'mon," she said. "What's going on?"

Tom studied the road. "You…you're wonderful, Alex…you deserve everything you want in life…"

"You know what I want right now?" she asked playfully. She squeezed his leg. "You…I want you."

He struggled for a moment. "Ok," he said.

Alex made love to Tom with a wild joy that night. She was deliriously happy, celebrating not only her feelings for Tom, but her triumphant first year of college and her sense that she was finally a grownup.

"Thank you," she whispered to Tom as they lay in bed. "For everything…for letting me be with you…you…you've made me a better person…"

He winced and pulled away from her.

Puzzled, she stared at him. "Tom…what's wrong? What did I do?"

"It's not you," he said. "You…you're wonderful…but…"

The "but" shook Alex to her center; Tom couldn't look her in the eye.

"I…I've been trying to tell you…for a long time…but there's never been a good time…and this…this certainly isn't. Maybe there's never a good time for this sort of thing."

Alex took a deep breath. "Oh, no," she thought. "I don't know how to do this…I've never done this…had it done to me…before…"

"Alex…" Tom took her hand. "Like I said…it's not you…please believe me…"

She finally thought she could trust her voice. "Then, what is it?"

"You remember…I told you…there was someone…but we…were in a sort of holding…a time out…period?"

Alex nodded; Tom had been honest about that—he'd always been honest about everything with her.

"She's…she's coming back here for an internship…and she…she liked for us…to try…" Tom swallowed. "And…the truth is…I'd like that too."

"Does she…know about me?"

"Not…you specifically…" Tom answered softly. "But we both know…we didn't make any promises…"

Alex slipped out of the bed and reached for her clothes.

"Alex…please…" Tom pleaded. "I…I don't want to…I never meant to hurt you…"

She pulled on her jeans. "How…how long have you known?" She slipped on her bra and shirt in the following silence.

"About…about a month," he finally confessed.

"A month?" She was surprised and a bit proud at how calm she sounded.

"I kept trying to tell you…" Tom stared down at the sheets. "But…I…I was a coward…I didn't want to hurt you…and…I didn't want to let you go…it was selfish…but…I didn't want to let you go…not at work…not here…"

"I understand," Alex heard her voice say, and, with a shock, she realized she could. "Do you want me to leave the job?"

"I…no…you…your work is great…we need you…if it's not too awful for you…" Tom didn't know how to respond to Alex's quiet reaction.

"I'd like to try it." Alex had her shoes on, and she stood to retrieve her backpack. "If it gets too awkward or strange, I'll go. I can find another job…I'm sure you'll give me a good reference…"

"The best…please, Alex…let me take you home…"

She violently shook her head. "No…Tom…please…" Her voice broke for the first time.

"Alex…please…scream at me…get angry…rage…this…this is my fault." He started to get out of bed.

"No!" She shouted. She hoisted her bag on her shoulders. "I knew what I was getting into…we both knew this wasn't permanent…I'm not a child…"

"Alex…"

She stopped for a moment at the bedroom door. "Please, Tom…don't stop me or I won't be able to go…"

Her words stopped him at the edge of the bed.

"Thank you…for everything…Tom…thank you."

She was gone before he could see her tears.

End Chapter Eight


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

During his childhood, Bobby Goren developed an ability to detach from and observe the world. This ability allowed him to avoid and survive some of the dangerous storms in his young life, and, for better and worse, it remained with him. Even as he yanked a raging Tony Mantello off his friend Lewis outside of the high school gym, Bobby's brain knew that Tony wasn't going after Lewis as much as he was trying to deal with the beating Mr. Mantello gave his son that morning. When the sergeants in boot camp yelled and screamed at him, Bobby's brain quietly observed the process as part of making him a soldier. When he got into his first tight spot leading his own squad, his brain again stepped aside and watched and learned and responded, just as it did when he was nine and hiding from his father and when he was twelve and trying to calm his agitated mother.

Bobby occasionally wondered what would happen to that detachment if he ever became involved with another person. He'd seen plenty of cases where people's IQs dropped several points when they fell in what they called love. In high school he'd watched as the smartest girl in school threw away a college scholarship for a guy everyone agreed was a jerk. Lewis regularly made a fool of himself over any blonde who appeared on his radar. His family offered plenty examples of disasters. Bobby couldn't understand why women flocked to his brother and his father in spite of all of the warning signs around them. And he was frequently baffled by why his mother—a funny, intelligent, sensitive woman before the demons took her—even said hello to his father. Bobby's observations led him to believe love wasn't as wonderful as all the songs and poems proclaimed it.

He wasn't sure if he loved Marlene, but whatever his feelings were they further focused his already sharp mind. He lived for the moments he spent with Marlene, but those seemed to clear the other hours in the day. His life was a cycle of Marlene, work, study, Marlene. In spite of Marlene's invasion of his thoughts, everything was clearer and sharper. For the first time he seriously weighed his superiors' suggestions that he consider officer candidate school. Even the letters from his brother and his mother hurt less with the knowledge he could disappear into Marlene's arms.

He received some grief from his fellow soldiers. His roommate Josh knew something about Marlene; while he approved of Bobby's acquisition of a private life, he gently warned him, "Don't fall too hard, kid." (Bobby replied, "It's too late. I'm halfway down the well.") In spite of the questions and ribbings from others, Bobby remained vague about just what he did when he went away from the base.

"A gentleman," he said to a group one day, "doesn't talk."

A chorus of whistles and hoots greeted his words.

"C'mon," Bobby said with a grin. "First, you ride me 'cause I don't go on leave…now you ride me 'cause I do…give me a break, guys."

He didn't just exist now; he lived. Things he'd seen before were suddenly new because he saw them with Marlene. They explored everything they could in the city and area near the base, occasionally venturing into places neither would have explore on his or her own. They went to concerts—with Marlene discovering the blues—the opera—where Bobby found his initial dislike of Wagner moved to a passionate desire to avoid it—plays, films, and museums. He developed a taste for modern art which amused her. Her knowledge of American slang improved immensely, as did his ability to conjugate German verbs.

He was happy, a feeling alien to him, and he couldn't understand why Marlene was with him. She was beautiful—beautiful in a way that caused men and some women to turn and look at her—incredibly intelligent, and, from his perspective, sophisticated and elegant. "She has to teach me everything," Bobby thought one morning as his fingers traced small patterns on her naked back. "Even here…it means so much to me…but why…she could have anyone…why a stupid kid?"

"Hey." Marlene turned in his arms. "What are you thinking about?"

He smiled at her. "You…I'm usually thinking about you."

She rose on an elbow to look at him. "I hope…they're good thoughts…"

Bobby reached to touch her chin. "Oh, yes…my thoughts about you are always good."

"It's just…Sometimes you seem so far away…"

"It's just…so wonderful…" Bobby whispered. "I…wonder…why…why me? You…you could have anyone…"

Marlene gently pushed him on his back. "Because," she said as if she was talking to a child. "You've smart and kind…and very cute." Bobby winced. "All right," she laughed. "Handsome…a beautiful boy…" She kissed him; as he became lost in her, Bobby thought, "A boy…does she think of me as a boy?"

Other thoughts broke in on his happiness. Marlene never introduced him to anyone—not her mother or her friends—and their dates and excursions avoided certain areas—the bars and restaurants around the university especially. "Don't be paranoid, Goren," he thought one morning as he waited for the bus to take him to Marlene. "We both need to keep this quiet…And it's not like you're telling her anything either…Just go with it…enjoy it."

One evening the lure of a concert of blues was too strong for Marlene, and they went to the university's concert hall. Still vibrating from the concert, they entered the first bar they encountered on the way from the hall. She hesitated at the entrance.

"Is this place ok?" Bobby asked. "We could go on…"

"Yes…yes.. _I_t's fine." She still stood before the door. "It's time," she thought. "If you run into someone, you run into them…Why should you be worried about what anyone thinks…So he's younger than you…and an American…He's smart and sweet and older than you in a lot of ways…" Bobby stood, slightly puzzled but waiting patiently for her. She smiled at him. "I have to warn you," Marlene said. "This place is full of snooty pseudo-intellectuals."

Bobby grinned. "Well, I'll just try to look like the silent but deep type."

In spite of the crowd, Bobby and Marlene managed to find an empty table in a dark corner. "I'll get our drinks at the bar," Bobby said, and Marlene considered, as she often did, his kindness to her.

As he moved away from the table, Bobby noted from the corner of his eye a tall, very blonde man who appeared to be studying Marlene. "Maybe someone she knows," he thought.

It took Bobby some time to collect their drinks. As he waited, he attempted to sort through the many voices assaulting his ears. Marlene was right about the clientele; many of the patrons sprouted the latest in philosophical and political theories. He finally got their drinks and maneuvered carefully back to Marlene. As he grew closer, he saw that the tall, blonde man stood over her. Bobby felt a flare of irritation, one that increased when he saw the troubled look on Marlene's face. The man's back was to Bobby; he blocked Marlene from seeing Bobby approach.

"So," the man said in German. "This is why we haven't seen you…you've been with this American boy." Bobby frowned; the man said the words as if he were describing an ugly bug.

"Plenty of people have seen me, Gunther. The ones I've wanted to," Marlene replied with some tension. "Besides, I don't see how any of this is any of your business."

Gunther moved towards the empty seat; Marlene stopped him. "No," she said firmly. "That's taken."

"For him," Gunther said dismissively. "I thought you had taste, Marlene…What are you doing? Slumming? Having a fling with a boy?"

"Gunther." Marlene's voice was low and angry. "We're over. Leave it."

Bobby studied Gunther. He had no desire to create a scene, but he knew he could easily take the man physically. He preferred to deal with Gunther in a quieter way, although he had some doubts if he could match the older man intellectually.

"Excuse me," Bobby said quietly in English. He easily pushed past Gunther, pressing by him with just enough force to let the blonde man know how strong he was. "I'm sorry, Marlene," Bobby said, still using English and employing the most polite voice he could manage. "It was very crowded at the bar." He placed their drinks on the table and leaned forward to lightly brush his lips against her bangs. She looked up at him with a combination of surprise, gratitude, and worry. Bobby softly squeezed her hand, and some of the tension left her face.

Gunther laughed cruelly. "What?" he said. "He can't even speak German! Is that what you have him around for? To improve your American slang?"

Marlene flushed. "Gunther," she growled, but Bobby's gentle touch on her knee calmed her.

"I thought you had some taste," Gunther said. Bobby had maneuvered his chair so that he was between Gunther and Marlene and the other man was trapped in a corner. "What do you and your BOYfriend talk about? Or do you ever talk?"

Marlene was about to leap from her chair when Bobby spoke in perfect German. "I'm afraid, Marlene, I'll never like Wagner…Too bombastic and pompous for me…Not that it's likely to bother Maestro Wagner." Out of the corner of his eye, Bobby was enormously pleased to see that Gunther now looked like a dead fish; it was not an attractive look for him. Marlene's face was a mixture of pleasure and concern. Bobby winked at her. "Tomorrow…would you like to go to the exhibit of modern art…or revisit the Impressionists?"

Marlene sipped her drink. Gunther started to recover from his shock at discovering Bobby's linguistic skills and to become enraged by Bobby's quiet ignorance of his presence.

"I think," Marlene said. "I'd like to go back to the Impressionists." She took another drink, and, emboldened by the calm strength in Bobby's eyes, said, "I'll make it up to you tonight."

Gunther reeled in shock; Bobby's eyes widened in surprise and delight.

"So," Bobby purred. "Would you like to get started on that "make it up to you" part?"

"Of course," Marlene purred back.

Bobby rose immediately and extended a hand to Marlene. He moved so that Marlene was away from Gunther; he rose to his full height—something he'd learned to use to his advantage after years of trying to hide his size—and stared down at Gunther.

"Excuse me," Bobby said with a slight edge to his voice, and again brushed past Gunther with just enough force to tell the German how much strength he possessed. Stunned by several blows, Gunther fell back and let them past.

"Thank you, Robert," Marlene said. "It's nice to finally be with a real gentleman."

They emerged into the cool spring evening and walked several yards before either spoke.

"That was Gunther…old boyfriend," Marlene said. "Old, bad boyfriend."

"So I gathered," Bobby replied quietly. "I…I didn't embarrass you…"

"No," she said quickly. "Not at all…you…you handled it perfectly…that was the sort of thing I've wanted to do to him since we broke up…"

"He'll tell people," Bobby said. "About us…"

Marlene laughed. "Oh, I'd bet on it. But I'm really not part of that crowd now. It doesn't matter."

Bobby shoved his hands in his pockets. "It won't hurt you at work?"

"The people Gunther knows," Marlene said, "are unlikely to have much to do with the base."

Bobby was lost in his thoughts as they walked. "Bobby?" Marlene touched his sleeve. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing…nothing that matters."

"You're a better man than Gunther…a much better man," she said softly.

Bobby ran a hand through his hair. "It's just…he's sophisticated…and older… and…"

"And a jerk," Marlene said. She stood on her toes to kiss him.

If Gunther talked, neither of them learned about it. Neither of them approached the subject of the other's life. Bobby was a gentle and considerate lover, waiting for Marlene to take the lead, joyfully learning from her. But there were moments when he'd rush her to her bedroom and make love to her with a desperation that frightened her. These sessions were often followed by nights in which he had terrible dreams that wracked his body. He always fell asleep after her and woke before her; Marlene occasionally wondered if he ever really slept. She cared enough about him to want to comfort him; she feared his demons enough that she didn't want to approach the dark corners of his mind.

It was a warm, lovely summer day after one of those nights. Bobby had made love to her the previous night as if he was trying to memorize and mark every part of her body. He had been unusually quiet through the morning. They walked by the river, stopping to throw bread crumbs to the swans, ducks, and geese.

"That's all, you mooches," Bobby said as he wiped his hands of the last few crumbs.

"You've been very quiet, Bobby," Marlene said.

He glanced at her, and began pacing away from and back to her, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. He looked at her, and the pain in his eyes stunned her.

"Bobby…what?" She reached for him, but he pulled away.

"The Army…they want to transfer me…send me to South Korea…a new intelligence unit…it's a great opportunity…but…" He stared at the ground.

She struggled to find her voice.

"I'm sorry." He took refuge in English. "I meant…to tell you…last night…but…you were so beautiful and wonderful…I couldn't…"

She found her voice. "I understand." She rested a hand on his chest; the gesture calmed him. "The Army must have a lot of confidence in you…It's a great chance for you…congratulations." She was genuinely proud of and happy for him. "When?" In her mind, Marlene began to consider life without him.

"Two…two weeks…" His voice was a whisper. "And…I…I won't be able to…to get leave before then…"

Marlene smiled sadly. "The only thing armies seem to do quickly is anything that hurts people…"

Bobby spun to face her; the idea he might never see her again filled him with terror. "I won't go," he said suddenly and furiously. "I won't…I'll stay here…"

Marlene stared at him. Bobby was many things, but completely unreasonable was not one of them.

"Bobby," she said gently. "It's the Army. You're a soldier. You have to go."

Bobby stared at her. "Come with me." His eyes and voice were wild.

"Bobby." Marlene fought to keep her voice even; he frightened her. "I can't do that…There's too much paperwork, for one thing…"

He grabbed her hands. "Marry me," he said desperately.

"What?"

"Marry me…you'll be my wife…they'll let you come…"

"Bobby…please…you're…you're hurting my hands…"

He dropped her hands as if they were on fire. "I…I'm sorry…I…" He began to pace in front of her. She was terrified of and for him.

He stopped suddenly and gazed at her. The panic had left him, replaced by an awful sadness.

"I…I'm sorry," Bobby said. "I…I lost my mind there…The Army wouldn't let you come to Korea even if we were married…" His eyes pierced Marlene's soul. "Even if you wanted to marry me…which you don't…"

"Bobby," she said as her heart splintered. "You're wonderful…I don't want you to go…but you're so young…"

"A boy," he said bitterly and turned away from her. "Just a boy."

"Please, Bobby," she choked. "That's not fair…I…I'm young too…my life…my family…they're here…"

For a long time he stared at the river. Finally, he turned back to her. "You're right," he said in a defeated tone. "It's…I've never…faced…ending something…"

Marlene stepped up to him. "These past months," she whispered as she wrapped her arms around him. "Have been wonderful…you gave me so much…"

"What…what…I gave you…what did I give you?"

"Your heart…your soul…everything…Gunther…others…they took from me…treated me as I wasn't anything until I came to them…but you…you made me feel special…I'll never let anyone use me again…that's because of you, Bobby…and I'm grateful…" She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him to her.

"I'm…glad…I could give you something," he said huskily. "You gave me…so much…"

"C'mon," she said. "Let's go back to my apartment…say our goodbyes."

They made love desperately and passionately for the rest of the evening. Bobby missed one bus, then another. Marlene threatened to walk him back to the base before he finally rose from her bed.

"I'll write you," Bobby promised as he dressed, and Marlene mourned that she'd never again see those back muscles ripple and stretch. "Maybe when you finally get to New York you can come and see me…I'll sneak you on the subway." He glanced at her over his shoulder. "I'm lying," he thought. "I'll never see her again…this is it…"

She smiled sadly at him. "Yes," she said, and knew she was lying as the word left her lips. She started to go with him to the bus stop, but he shook his head. She rose to meet his lips.

"Thank you, Marlene," he whispered, and then rushed away from her.

"Thank you, Bobby," she called after his fleeing figure.

He missed the last bus to the base and briefly considered returning to her apartment. Instead, he walked to the base, where the MPs stopped him. It was the first time he'd been late returning from leave—the first time since Basic Training that he'd been guilty of any violation. His record probably was responsible for the officer in charge letting him off with a half-hearted reprimand.

He slipped into his room. His roommate's sleepy voice whispered in the darkness.

"Celebrating your promotion?"

"Something like that." He was surprised at how calm his voice sounded.

"Get in any trouble for being late?"

"Nah…just a little extra duty…"

"Good." Bobby heard Josh roll over.

He fell into his bunk and stared into the darkness trying to will all of Marlene to appear from his memory.

END Chapter Nine


	10. Chapter 10

Well, in penance for not updating OMEGA, ALPHA and ROADS, here's the conclusion of SECONDS.

Chapter Ten

"I love being in Major Case," Alex thought. "But there are moments…" She sighed.

"Eames…don't make things bad before we get there." Her partner sat quietly next to her in the SUV. He was seemingly lost in the file on their latest case, but Bobby was acutely aware of his partner's mood.

"It's just," Alex said as she maneuvered the large vehicle through the afternoon traffic. "I smell a political rat behind us being called for this one…"

Bobby nodded. "Yea…I don't like dealing with cases involving the UN."

Alex snorted. "Talk about rabbit holes for someone to disappear into…"

Both Alex and Bobby attempted to approach every case with a completely open mind, to read the evidence and not allow any preconceived ideas to shape their interpretations. But this scene screamed "Suicide!" and continued screaming that word as they examined it.

"Exactly why were we called?" Alex asked the remarkably civil detective from the local precent.

"Politics," he replied. "That, and we wanted to help you keep that high solve rate."

A quick smile crossed Alex's face. "Thanks," she said genially. "We appreciate the help."

"The father of the victim is a muckety-muck with the Germans…He made a demand—a polite one as these go—for Major Case." The detective shrugged.

Bobby performed his usual meticulous examination of the scene. The father, white with anger and grief, calmed as Bobby spoke gently to him.

"Definitely suicide," Alex asked as a uniform escorted the father away.

"Yea." Bobby sighed. "The daughter…she'd been having trouble…hearing voices…for a few years…Her mother…killed herself several years ago…" Bobby stared after the grieving father.

Alex brushed his arm. "Hey, you can't save everybody…especially if you don't know them…C'mon…let's report back…"

Bobby had suddenly frozen; his face bore a surprised but not unhappy look. Alex followed his gaze to a petite woman with short blonde hair. Most of her height came from her long, elegant legs. Alex found it difficult to place her age; she looked young, but carried herself with a quiet authority, and Alex noted that several individuals in the office deferred to her. The woman became aware of Bobby and Alex's scrutiny. As her attention moved from Alex to Bobby, her eyes widened, and a faint, sad smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she slowly walked towards them.

"Bobby Goren," she said softly.

"Marlene…Marlene Dross," Bobby answered with the same combination of sadness and amazement.

Alex stood quietly at Bobby's side, trying to subtly examine this woman and to figure out her relationship to Bobby.

"It's been…a while," the woman said ruefully. Alex caught the subtle trace of a German accent.

"Over twenty five years," Bobby answered.

Alex thought that they regarded each other affectionately if regretfully.

Bobby suddenly remembered Alex and his manners. "Marlene Dross—is it still Dross?—my partner, Detective Alex Eames. Detective Eames, Marlene Dross."

Alex took Ms. Dross' extended hand. Her grip was firm but not overly so; her attitude friendly but watchful.

"A pleasure, Detective Eames." Marlene glanced at Bobby. "It's still Dross professionally…But Richter at home…" She gazed again at Alex. "You're the detectives the NYPD sent?"

"Yes," Alex nodded.

"I'd be happy to provide you with any information you need," Marlene said. "Would my office be a better place?"

Bobby subtly glanced at Alex. Marlene noted the unspoken communication between the two.

"We'd appreciate that," Alex replied. "I just need to call in to our captain."

As Alex moved away to make the call, an awkward silence briefly descended between Marlene and Bobby.

"You…you look wonderful," Bobby finally said. He shifted his binder from one hand to the other. "And you made it to New York…"

"Thank you," she answered softly. "You…you look good too…you fill that suit very well…Although I admit it's odd to see you in a suit."

She did look wonderful, and at least ten years younger than her age. There were a few laugh lines around her eyes, her figure a little fuller, but there was still much of the Marlene of twenty five years earlier. He had changed as well—his body fuller, his hair graying—but his eyes were the same dark, gentle, intelligent and troubled ones she remembered.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I stopped writing…One of my letters came back…and I…" His voice tailed off. The day that his letter to Marlene returned was, at that time, one of the worst of his life; unfortunately other days had since passed it.

Marlene tried to meet his eyes. "I moved…and then there was someone…I'm sorry, Bobby…you deserved much better."

He gave her a small, sad smile, and Marlene felt something squeeze her heart.

"It's ok," he said. "It was time."

Alex returned in time to hear Bobby's last words. "Time for what," she wondered. It was increasingly clear that Bobby and this woman shared a past, and likely a romantic past. Alex knew a little of his experiences with women, that his first sexual experience, like hers, had not been a happy one. He had a reputation as something of a ladies' man, but the ex-girlfriends Alex encountered spoke of Bobby with love and regret, and Alex sensed that Bobby took the idea of fidelity seriously. Casual, quick encounters were not his style, and Alex wondered if this sophisticated woman had something to do with the man Bobby was.

Marlene's office was small and efficiently furnished. The bookshelf behind the desk was filled with several language dictionaries and other reference works, but the shelf directly at eye level held several photos. Bobby glanced at Marlene, who nodded; he moved behind the desk to study the photos. Alex saw several pictures of Marlene with a handsome dark haired and eyed man with an equally handsome boy and girl who were clearly their son and daughter. There were also pictures of Marlene with an older woman in Times Square and the Statue of Liberty; the older woman resembled Marlene enough that Alex reasoned she must be her mother. Bobby started slightly, and Alex followed his gaze to a small picture in a corner of the shelf. It showed a younger Marlene and a young man—really still a boy—who was clearly Bobby Goren. Marlene smiled at the camera, but Bobby's dark eyes were focused on her with a combination of adoration and puzzlement.

"Well," Alex thought. "I need to find out about this."

As the two detectives took their seats, Marlene studied them. Most of her attention was on Bobby, but she was also fascinated by the small but intense blonde woman next to him.

"She's tough," Marlene thought. "But some of it is part of a skin she's had to develop. I can't tell how old she is…she looks young, but she's clearly a veteran…Bobby defers to her…He's clearly very comfortable with her…He's become a striking man…In a suit, no less…A very good looking suit…But that sadness is still there…He looks tired…But he never did sleep well…and no ring on his finger…I hoped he'd find someone…Have some of the happiness I have. "

Their conversation was brief and to the point; Alex and Bobby rose to go.

"Eames," Bobby said quietly. "Could you go ahead? I…I just…"

Alex decided to press for more information later. "Sure."

Bobby turned back to Marlene. "I…I…" He looked at her shyly, and Marlene felt she was in her twenties again. "Do you feel as awkward as I do?" he asked.

"I suspect I do," Marlene replied.

"I'd like to…if it's not too awkward for you…to get a cup of coffee or something?"

"I'd like that," she answered gently. "Is Saturday good for you…around ten…My kids have things going on and Sam has a conference…I was prepared for a long, boring day…"

Bobby fumbled with his binder. "I dream," he said softly. "Of long boring days…"

They agreed on a nearby coffee shop; Bobby turned to go. "It's good…good to see you again," he said. "You really do look wonderful."

Marlene watched him walked down the hall to join Eames. "I hope…" she thought.

Marlene sipped her coffee and stared down the street. It was a rare, early fall day, just cool enough to require a sweater but warm enough to allow her to sit on the coffee shop's small terrace. She was on her second cup of the dark, rich liquid. Bobby was late, and Marlene was just beginning to think she had been stood up.

"But he never stood you up," she thought. "But he was never late either…I'm so nervous…It must be all the caffeine…Maybe he isn't that nice young man any more…Maybe he's changed…"

She glanced up from her cup and saw Bobby approaching. A barely remembered feeling rose in her.

"Twenty five years," she thought. "Over twenty five years and he still makes my heart jump. "I love Sam…I love my life…but your first real love…"

He reached her table. "I'm sorry," he said with a tired smile. "I…Saturday mornings…family stuff…" He waved one of his large hands and sat across from her.

For Marlene, the afternoon was a repeat of her first meeting with Bobby. They were, of course, outside on a bright day with the sounds of the city around them rather than in a dark, smoky bar with pulsating music, but just as she had told Bobby of her life in that bar, so she told him all about her present life outside that coffee shop.

"I'm sorry," she said as she realized she'd talked nonstop for some time. "I'm not letting you get to say much."

Bobby smiled at her. "It's ok," he said. He leaned forward, his hands clutching his cup. "One of the things…One of the reasons why…" He looked up at her. "I'm so glad your life has turned out so well…I'm so happy for you, Marlene." He sipped his coffee. "I thought about looking for you…But I…I thought it would be an intrusion…It wasn't that I had some idea of restarting things…It's just I…I wanted to know how you were…but…I was afraid…if things weren't good for you…I was afraid of what I might find…"

Marlene returned his smile. "I can understand that. I've thought about you a lot…Wonder what happened to you…"

"Hence the picture you kept." Bobby rubbed his thumb over his cup. "Your husband ok with that…and this?"

Marlene grinned. "Yes…I explained to him that it was someone who had a lot to do with what I am…and he said that if that was the case, he couldn't complain since he loves me…"

"It's clear you feel the same way about him," Bobby said quietly. "Marlene…really…I'm so happy for you…"

She reached across the table to touch his hand. "I'm so glad I to see you again…I've always wanted to thank you…"

He gave her a surprised look.

"Remember what I told you…that last time," she said. "You made me a better person. I never would have had the courage to do what I've done without you…"

He stared into the depths of his coffee. "You…you always had the ability…You would've found the courage…"

"I don't know about that," Marlene said gently. "I believe you were the difference. But you…you haven't told me anything about you…Your family…"

She saw the shadow in his eyes. "I'm sorry," she said. Marlene was suddenly confused, and she realized that she had never known anything about Bobby's family.

He smiled again—that sad smile that hadn't left him after all of the years. "It's ok." He rubbed his thumb over his cup. "I…just my Mom…and she's…she's got some health issues…" His voice was gently, but Marlene sensed he had no desire to discuss the issue.

"You're not married?" She asked. "You don't have any children?"

He shook his head. "No…I'm afraid…to both questions."

Marlene's good mood was disappearing in the face of what she saw as Bobby's sadness. "I'm sorry, Bobby…I didn't mean to…"

"You haven't," he said quickly. "It's not as gloomy as it sounds…a couple of years ago…well…maybe…" He looked away for a moment. "Right now, my Mom isn't as good as she has been…and there's some stuff at work…"

Marlene could only imagine what sort of "stuff" a high ranking NYPD detective might have to deal with.

"But," Bobby continued, and Marlene saw a genuinely happy look on his face. "I do have someone now…It's really complicated…but it's worth it." He smiled. "Really, really worth it…I have hope…For the first time, maybe, since I was with you…Real hope." He looked at her, his dark brown eyes warm and glowing beneath his long lashes. "In spite of everything, I have hope."

Marlene tenderly squeezed his hand. "I'm glad, Bobby…You deserve it…You're a good man."

They spoke for the rest of the afternoon until shadows crossed their table.

"I'm sorry," Marlene said as she checked her watch. "The kids will be getting home soon…I have to go…"

Bobby stood. "Yea…" He extended a hand to Marlene. "I…that "someone"," he smiled.

"That "someone"," Marlene said. "Is very lucky." She stood on her tiptoes and softly brushed her lips against his.

Bobby wrapped his arms around her. "I think," he said, his breath gently ruffling her hair. "One of the reasons I didn't try to find you…I couldn't believe it really happened…I though sometimes that you were a dream…a wonderful dream…and I didn't want to lose that…"

They hugged each other.

"Your "someone" mind if we keep in touch?" Marlene asked. "As friends?"

Bobby smiled. "I don't think so…She's pretty tolerant…She has to be…to be with me."

Bobby lay with his head resting just below Alex's breasts; one of her hands weaved in and out of his curls; his soft stubble gently tickled her as she breathed. The air, still charged with their lovemaking, was cool against their damp skin; Bobby started to reach for the covers.

"No," Alex said gently. "If you're warm enough…Could you stay there a little longer?"

He smiled up at her, and Alex felt her heart tumble. "You like this, too?"

She nodded. "A lot."

He listened for a few moments to her breaths and heartbeat. "How was your afternoon?" he finally asked.

"Good…really good…" Her hands rubbed his back. "I got to see my nephew…he's great." She smiled mischievously. "And how was your meeting with your old girlfriend?"

He looked up at her again. "It was good…good…She has a good life…Great job…kids…HUSBAND." He emphasized the last word.

"Don't worry," Alex laughed. "I'm not jealous…Besides, I saw an old boyfriend this afternoon too…And he's doing great too…WIFE…" Bobby laughed as she emphasized the word. "Great business…He's Tom Wexstein…"

Bobby raised his body on his arms. "The guy who owns all those auto care places? Lewis does work with his guys…has great things to say about them…"

Alex nodded. "Yea…Tom…Tom was my first real boyfriend…the good one…"

Bobby rolled on his back. "Marlene…she was the first good one…she taught me a lot…"

Alex moved so that she rested on Bobby's chest. She kissed him just above his breastbone. "I should thank her," she said huskily.

Bobby brushed his lips against her hair. "And I should thank this Tom…"

Alex laughed. "Well, let's just see what we learned from them…"

END


End file.
